And in the death,
as the alt right corpses lay rotting on the slimy thoroughfare,
the shutters lifted in inches in Bute House
high on Charlotte Square.
And red, mutant eyes gazed down on Embra City.
No more big wheels.
New Labour fleas the size of rats sucked on neoliberal rats the size of cats
And ten thousand populists split into small tribes
Coveting the highest of the sterile statues
Like packs of dogs assaulting the glass fronts of Harvey Nichols
Ripping and rewrapping illegally hunted fox, now legwarmers
Family badge of post-truth and cracked brexit
Any day now
The Return of the living dead
"This ain't Rottenrow
This is Jenners. Hide!"
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