The great escape
We walked around, sort of dreamed
around
Set adrift in a dark sea of torment.
Crushed together in group hug of the
dead.
The moans of despair are constant.
The stench of vomit, sweat,cheap
perfume and aftershave
invades my rotting nostrils.
I force my way through the endless mass
of the un-dead.
Empty minds and empty hearts.
Fart, shit, puke, and decay
Merge into a sickly sweet aromatic
aroma.
Slowly I push further through
the mass of puss and misery.
Looking up in the distance I see a
blinkering light
Is it a light house to steer me clear?
To guide me to safety from this hell of
pulsating rot
Its just as good as a lighthouse
It’s the exit sign out of
Meadow hall
Martin
Hickman©March 2015
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