no one takes any notice of me,

if I speak my truth

it’s just a junkie garbling


a disease carrying scum

chasing tracks 

another fuckin’ wino, soiling

his pants, 

watching clouds

roll by

hear what I’m saying

cos you could be me

like I was you

before a couple of wrong turns 

just a couple

barely a misstep 

at first it happens slowly

then you watch it all slide  

doors locked 

faces turned away

you claw and beg 

for second chances

your fingers are too cold

and loathe 

to seize

it’s not enough to choose 

a different path

you’ve gotta be a little lucky too

or at least, 

not so unlucky 

but now you’ve all sloped off home

back to warm rooms and food

and you weren’t really listening anyhow

cos it’s just a junkie talking

you smug faced bastards

you could be me