Beaches

by Eddie Joyce

Are terrible graveyards for
Souls.
Unless it’s winter and the
people are wearing
Big Coats.
Otherwise it only acts
as a parading ground for the vain,
some deservedly so,
but,
the majority, unfortunately not.
A gratuitous fleshyard of men
and women
who should know better.
Displaying their ashen skin
and limbs, as though it is
Normal
and acceptable.
With eyes glazed and faces
Frozen with sweat.
Maybe I’m wrong
(and I often am)
But I just
don’t
get
it.

Eddie Joyce lives in Birmingham and went on a very long holiday last year and actually had a very nice time.

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