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For the people of cash...


Picby Marc Lionhart20 Jul 2018

Take away your capital and we all merge together, the boundaries are blurred and the walls arise, awaken and suppress
We reach a tall tower block in the centre of the city, sit down in reception and await further direction
Mr. Money and his informants, representatives, yes men, all gather to greet you with toothy grins razor sharp with diamonds embedded beautifully
They have finishing quaffing liquidised benefits rejection forms chortling and claiming it fuels their desire to run the perfect world, the ideal world
They bleed green, and a thick black paste
Washing their hands in soap made from ground up bone and Nescafe, they watch mealworms drown in turquoise cocktails alongside painted women flailing loose and loosely like a protruding cock from a desolate gloryhole
Artwork comprised of burning tenners and torn up fivers raining onto a sea of zombie fingers line the walls with aplomb, each depicting perfection in individual wrapping
We have walked to the Capital, only to be greeted with an iron gate and surveillance camera
When it points down, a thick vein falling from it sizzles in fury and completes the recipe for defiance
My home was eaten by money.