he wants a job where he doesn't even have to think
about joe and mary public. but everything's ringed-fenced,
previous experience, re-deployees only.
"it's like I'm trapped in the ...."
I've been stitched up by four works of fiction; matt, mark luke and...the other one.
and for a series of innocent blunders i find myself barred from MCR's central rotunda.
shrieks and howls in the bowels of the listed buildings,
they have just twigged i cannot borrow but I can still go in and read for free.
imperial novel guardsman trains his hardened gaze upon me,
with a look that's bought and paid for - in a town of draft dodgers and collaborators.
he's a peculiar sort, cut precisely to primark sizes.
in every new edition that arrives he scribbles out all the words he doesn't like,
scribbles out the ISBM so that no-one could ever order those books again.
who wants a job?
