Haunted

My home within a home 

Is a fortress of blocked-out windows 

And the artist Zorro. 

The sharks knocking on doors;

Just a wheelie bin for the Council,

A gold shop of memories - 

A buy-one-get-one-free Poundland

With property ladders to nowhere. 

In Fantasia Palace behind metal gates; 

In Brooklyn with mud huts of the hunted of no plastic 

The soldier sleeps on the streets ,

Everyone throwing away food;

We scavenge on the Internet;

An invisible place of mirrors;

An empty bean can for charities

As we sit in our houses.

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