For They Are...

...Short straws in my long beard
The urine to be drunk on rising
Holes in the moneybag
The hopelessness of hospitals
Depraved experiments
Screaming rust on the cages
of laboratory animals
Limbs mashed by landmines
The oppressive presence of absence
The despair of asylums
Dead fleas from the Angel
Vomit on in-trays
Frightened albinos
Decaying slaughterhouse-concrete
Maggots on bones
The drowned smells of psychiatrists
And the smegma of the teaching wolf

by Anthony Weir

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