THE PRISONER
by
Dave Carr


Can anybody help me please?
I live my life in fear.
I have recurring nightmares of
Being trapped inside IKEA.

I go in for a single bulb,
The sort only they sell,
And claustrophobia soon sets in,
My senses go through hell.

I stand amidst a sea of beds;
I'm spinning as I shout,
"I hate this place! I hate this place!
How do I get out?"

Hordes of frantic shoppers
With yellow shoulder bags;
Men with rimless glasses
Waving Swedish flags.

I dream that I'm surrounded;
Attacked by steel utensils;
  Stabbed by shiny kitchen knives
And stubby little pencils.

Flat packs tower around me,
Shelf on shelf on shelf;
A whole lifetime's sentence of
Do it your bloody self.

Just once I made it to the door
And out - "Freedom!" I cried.
But then a giant meatball came
To bring me back inside.

I reached the final checkout;
On a trolley there I lay
In a self assembed coffin,
(A choice of white or grey.)


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