Bloodstains on Metal..
Shredded Glory of the past ahead..
The foothold sags,
The vestibule flags..
With rips from no knives thin..
She shudders to a halt,
Like an orgasm at fault,
With likewise screech and moan..
The orange-red bulb flickers,
Lights a crescent halo,
Drives me to Paranoid park..
The shady bowers of the City's
Underbelly,tunneled,lit up for show..
With sumptuous feed
Of those In need..
Chinks in her armour,rusted and brown,
And a whiff of colonial hangover..
She puts off the light,
And sleeps for the night..
To groan next morning again..
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