Friday 1 July 2011

In Anticipation Of The Number Three


Drip follows drop / in the tin bus stop / as emphysemic lungs / spew out thick fast coughs / Phlem coats blood / with a slimy kind of thud / hitting wrinkled hands / from pre-cancerous buds / Screams from prams / like a slaughtered infant lamb / ring out through the shelter / until the single mum's hand slams / Men in crombie coats / with whisky flasks to tote / breathing rancid breath / and dousing passers-by in smoke / Lidl bags spill / when the workers start to drill / releasing cut-price products / to make your healthy insides ill / Street sweepers sweep / as they shuffle on their feet / tidying dried up vomit / making concrete wastelands neat / Try as I might / to get my lighter to ignite / I can not escape the rain / inside this corrugated site.