Falling
from the bridge.
Desperation,
controlled
by such fear of,
not
owning the spirit of
life,
and losing someone of,
the
will to be cared for.
Slipping
off the edge, doubt
for
what a life is all about.
Folly
for the superficial dolly,
sends
you falling off your trolley
laughing!
Maniac,
who
sold his voice to them,
demons
wearing pinstriped suits,
some
also wearing marching boots,
all
fashioned by the lie,
wearing
Eton Oxbridge tie.
Concerned
to be too early,
finding
the train was late,
missed
out, even by this fate,
broken
and mashed upon the
hatefulness.
Fucking
great,
he
senses the over-planning,
signalled
by the signal man in,
who
closes the violet valves,
of
what was his final hour.
So
now, losing all his power
the
tightening of supple muscle,
he
falls away from metal shelf,
broken,
bruised, smashed to hell,
bottom
well!
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