Neil by John Doyle

Triptych schizophrenic,
drinks are on me,
thank God it's Friday,
ho, ho, ho,
speak up, Neil,
we can't hear you,
behind the iron curtain
your desk forbids us entry -
you are one of us Neil,
we really love you,
dining with the staff,
strangest shapes of accent
that bring carnage,
screaming
and lots of thick,
evil-coloured smoke -
you are one of us Neil,
sitting in the fickle corners of The Ferryman,
last train to Greystones
carries a choose and select menu
of day-time heroics
from which you fit your life -
aran sweater,
deck-shoes,
sunset-stained slacks
and a whole lotta hard-coded bullshit.
Oh Neil,
maybe we will miss you
when you're gone,
talking
to
yourself
in
the
fucked-up
corners
of
The Ferryman

About John Doyle:

John Doyle is at present watching Rocky V and wondering why he could have been at such a loose-end to be reduced to this, I mean, seriously... 

He accepts all major credit cards, but will start dancing a whole lot sooner if you just point a gun at his feet and fire at will.