FRIDGE OF DIPS

in the lurid 

& binocular land

old paranoia 

grows lucid as owls

& 

our skein of civilisation
is tangled

like a rat king

painted flatly

on cheap veneer

&

an 

awful & deliberate

awareness deficit

cosplays a second coming
in

the

street theatre of the dead

& 

freedom 

is a buttery illusion

reaching
all the long way

from the biscuit tin
to the fridge of dips

I USED TO LIKE OWLS

the mall is lit brown
not sepia more scratched gloss veneer
from
the old beige skylights and their UV damage

its saturday so the fuckers flock in force

getting stuff i almost need
i 
count 
all the owl themed items i can see
inside
a
department
store

twenty before i stop

department stores have lost their old school glory
lost their poise and pride 
their 
sitcoms
unrecognisable

fast track executive suits now

and

night-eyed teenagers pale from blue light
with
no
product
knowledge

even about owls

from littlemoose.co.uk