To Be

Foul mouthed cunts,
how you curse through the gruel of bacon sandwiches
at Daily Mail headlines,
HP sauce dripping onto your clothes all the while.

Foul mouthed cunts,
how you curse at me from the passenger seat of a Corsa,
fucking and faggot,
waving your dole packet although it were a Union Jack.

Cretinous ignorant bastards,
how the embers of your sterling burn on in ashtray,
‘Your fucking grounded’
your daughter jokes as she sips on one.

Cretinous ignorant bastards,
how you provide moderate amounts of alcohol,
puff, swig, barf,
as you’re more understanding than your own parents.

Finite Schadenfreude,
how I long to stub my cigarette beside my bacon sandwich,
tasteless samsāra!
and soil this dreadful tweed with HP sauce.

Finite Schadenfreude,
exempt from the calls of clattering Corsas
not a pen in the house,
how wonderfully grim.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s