As the armchairs of desire
Descend through the mists of shame
And the pangs of motorists
Debate the nature of blame
And the fence posts of empathy
Attempt to do the same
In Hell's supermarket
I find a reciprocating sign
That reflects my values
In tones and shades benign
Whilst the flip chart sings
In a tortured scream divine
A venturi spouts invisible loam
When the wallpaper oozes it's scented woodgrain
Propellors suck the wheat from the chaff
Under stone cold grey eyes filled with disdain
It's quite evident what a few pints
Does to my already addled brain.
Esra Sloblock
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/total-bollocks/
