a joke on you

There is something quite beautiful about the raw brutality of this piece. Love me some Howl on a Saturday.

The Sounds Inside

for once I wanted
to be early,
I wanted to be dignified,
usher out the rain,
my cigarettes are
falling apart
in my fingers,
you cross the road
with out-of-tune elegance,
your fur lined coat looks
and you’re swinging bread
in rhythm with your steps,
a jaunty pace
almost lost amongst
the workers’ fluorescent jackets,
amongst the sirens and the children
crying and the mothers discussing reality
almost lost amongst
the men
and their horses and their futures,
amongst the scrabble to be
someone has to be
the bait,
almost lost amongst
the union boys left out
to dry, the immigrant vegetables
with no place in this climate,
you don’t see me watching,
you don’t see me with my patchwork
personality, my two-day-old stink of
alcohol, my cheap tobacco, my
worn-out pupils, my badge as a member of
a generation of insomnia,
you don’t see me…

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