Gold by Fester Bryan

Gold shine

Bright and clammy

Matted shine of big bar money

I like the sweet taste

Of success

 

I have turned to face the

Gold shine

And a golf ball sized hole

Has been burnt

In my rational brain

 

I have little rational thought left

So I point my telescope at the sun

To have a good look at the solar flares

Now all that is left for me is black

my cat 

And a dripping tap