The gooey, bad blood of big Bob
Britain moves like meat loaf through a
straw, sizey bits of arterial fur break away
and head for the pig valves and pace
maker, fifty years as a saturate have
caught up with him and Bob, not resisting
the light this time, realises
that life has a viscosity
and love, in truth is not back bacon.

© Buschell 2021
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