A million Slags Dancing

Peel back the layers and watch the slags dancing

Invisible morals dripping like acid

Dissolving the filaments, the thread of society.

Tip up the bottle and down with knickers

Turning a trick in a pool of vomit

No pleasure, just action. Writhing in bile.

Slumped in a gutter - eyelids fluttering

Sticky and dripping with the seed of a stranger,

One shoe missing, the other in danger.

But the slags are still dancing around their handbags,

Faces are melting, hair has gone stringy,

Time of their lives, screams ‘Am I minging?’

Another bottle, another tune, another trick - over too quick.

Vile and degraded but shrieking with glee

‘I’ve had him and him. They’ve all had me!’

Needing to piss but too drunk to care

Chunks of kebab matted in hair.

But the slags are still dancing - it isn’t yet dawn

Squeeze out the last moments of riot and porn.

Who cares for tomorrow, our future, our live’s?

It’s all about now, all pleasure no pain.

Here is our future. What we have become

A million slags dancing and living for fun.
 
P.Lainchbury (1967 - )
 
I first posted this the day it was written with was 06/08/09 - I rarely post my poems but I've always kinda liked this one.