Bank Food by Neil Fawcett

They feed us on the banquet of the dead./
Food rotten when first served decades ago,/
now fluffed with mould’s downy hair./

They tell us to eat this shit or die,
so we eat this shit and still we die.

Let’s die with hunger’s rat eating our insides./
Not with rotten food wrapped in the mould/
Of age old lies.

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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 )

Connecting to %s