The Witch Finder general hides between the pavement cracks. His breath smells of coke-a-cola and Big Brother has cataracts.
He lives in an old peoples home and he smells of piss
sedated by beautiful nurses in stockings.
In flickering moments of lucidity he wonders how he has come to be in this place, in this pitiful existence. His mind feels strong during these vague vignettes but he is imprisoned by his failing and aged body.
More drugs administered by the vixen nurse soon weaken him again and his awareness washes away as his mind slowly slides down her warm nylon thighs.
On his knees, hangnails scratch against stockings,
ladders and runs.