Fuck London.

flat-sharing till I’m fifty
is my idea of fun—
exploited by scornful landlords,
while warned of change
by silver-spooned invaders;
a pestilence amongst those
who rise wide-eyed at the horn call
of hope amidst austerity;

yes, this socio-economic comedy
has no brevity, but indeed much irony.

living at home till I’m forty
is my life’s ambition—
hopeless and penniless,
what a legacy to birth;
tube fair up, rent, tax and shopping
yet there’s no stopping
the new-builds, boutiques, of course,
till finally it becomes a what’s worse:

being dead or alive in a city you’re born in
but while in, can do all but survive.