When the penny drops

Anti matter doesn’t matter when you
find the hammer to shatter through
the ties that bound you

I found you
bleeding on the cold stone floor
kissing concrete.

The street’s a canny place for canny lads
tightly wound there on the ground there
are
the ruined
the ill of mind
the users
prostitutes and their abusers
night life is not life
it’s more often the deadlight
just before dawn.

And they, them, those who look less than men
are thrown away like rotten vegetables
unwanted produce
from a rotten day,

in the City
anti matter doesn’t pity
doesn’t pay
and we say as we always do.
fuck you.

Because now we’re lost
without a voice
no champions to champion us
so
we cuss
and curse
use highs to get high
anything’s better than this
piss poor life,
even if it’s illusory.

But look at it like the street’s a nursery,
this and these are tomorrow waiting to
come up from the gutters and follow you
home.

how safe do you feel?
bar the windows
carbon steel is ace,
let the face you see be
a reflection of you looking
at me
looking at you.
how safe do you feel?

© 2017, John Smallshaw.