In fact my last, for today we leave
Which is tinged with sadness
Yet also serves as a freedom
Free from worry about my sciatica
Which has claimed most
Of my sleeping time
For the past three nights
Claimed with the use of surreal dreams
Claimed by the forays into delirium
As one imagines was regularly abroad
In the previous generation’s asylums
You might have visited
Such a place yourself
Or seen one of the many exhibitions
On dystopia, which toured the UK
The bill is paid
But the utopia will remain
Well after we are gone
Though will we still know of it
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