Thou.

[just mercedes]

I feel it needs more adding to it, but this is the first draft I guess.

           Thou.

Thou art the bastard of the apple,
Seedlings of the God bollock,
Farts from the steam whistle,
Reminding you to forget.

Thou art a busted flush,
Of the card table,
Of the lavatory,
The house has your money,
But you get to keep the turd.

Thou art junk food,
Your mind is Kentucky-Fried,
Your soul is flame-grilled,
Your flesh is a stuffed crust,
And your nuts are dry-roasted.

Hi - I find the archaic 'thou' is very grating, especially contrasted to the very modern images of the rest of the poem. It doesn't add anything for me - rather, it detracts from your poem.