Broken billboards struggle to change face:
Metal twists silently resisting the companies will.
Fish and chip shops stripped, history is satisfied.
Kebab, Pizza, chicken galore, the rising of the
Cultural cuisine. Mango boxes litter the littered
Floor, tied with pretty purple bows. I have no
Desire to undress. In the distance a beacon
Of lost hope clangs its bells, they are drowned
In the sound of overpopulation. The drunks
Resume there sacred saved position. To live
A life with but one need, who is the fool.
A swollen women beats the screen of a cash
Machine, as it eats her plastic and her carefully
Planned day. Butchers hack at flesh, there is
No sawdust here, no red bloated face, nothing
But efficient stripping and hasty exchanges.
Not Long Left
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/any-town/
