Follow The Shadow

A turnover,
laughably induced,
 by,masturbation of fear and hate,
 until it all got a bit sticky, dragging
tolerance down from the wall onto beds of tar.
Experiment with extremity, a pair of hands, ridged with naivety
 are giving the world a thorough shake.  
 The malnourished child of paranoia is seeing the light again,
and he's doing the tango with his mates,
 down Downing Street into the White House.
A stray cat with blotted skin from Kennington or Harlem
 is waiting to be blinded
by the lights of heaven or the fuzz and then,
rattling around,  
There’s a puritan in Wampum or Rochdale
creating alcohol-stained pollution, every night at 10pm,
whose bitter work-
blackened fingers push the buttons of a nation,
Have people even been so entranced as they pour their hearts into shadows?
Probably, but it doesn’t feel like it.
 Then it struck me,
 there’s a greasy pleasure, in  
being a prick sometimes.