Pub

Multi-culturally deranged and slimy with fornication the inhabitants inhabiting a hovel – wire fenced somewhere in Manchester. A gulley of steaming piss runs out through the back-door deluging the guard dogs - boozy stupor - barking furiously.
A bar prop, wrinkled pimpled arsehole spouting racist shite obliviously to a polish barmaid, while drinking gin. Like a garden gargoyle she sits out her life, lewdly grinning. Just smile back politely, Bob's liver whispers - capillary swollen nose, smeared on with a palette knife, he orders a pint of bitter. 

The landlord  - delusionally schizophrenic with an involuntary narcissistic rage. He will fuck you up, draped - white flag - voluntary. He roams around asserting his authority, for queen & country. Are boys or his boys follow him like a fart. You could cut it up the atmosphere - sell it off as plutonium.

Students sit in the corner acknowledging the no exit sign above there heads – ironically... Secluded oblivious gusting gas a gaggle of codgers tip bitter down there necks.

The toilet door in a continual saloon flap of plot-less indigence wafts hazes - impure crystalline powder. A paralytic pool table broken legless collapses like a gang-rape victim, surround by halfwits. High definition green grass in a constant stream. A dyslexic dart board - pricked.

I emerge from the bog a rill of bile trickling from the side of my mouth intoxicated euphoric black eyes encrusted nose – i make a beeline for the bar – cold cider. Not such a bad bunch, meeting thieves, psychotics, louts, lovers, old women, young men, dads, widows, Fools...But always meeting ourselves.

Ferocious articulation echoes around the place. A man of transparent age - paper thin-skin mutters to himself. Locked safely in his own mind. He writes these words.