Thursday, 30 April 2020

Feral

A 2020 poem



Territorial beatings, stake your claim
A knife, a gun, or an old fashioned knee in the groin
And punch in the stomach
A kick in the head and left to stew


Blood drips into the gutter while you sleep
You’re going to regret this in the morning
Nocturnal creatures licking your wounds
Stinky vomit a pillow


Were you conned into a life of crime
Or are you just bad to the bone
Nature? Nurture? A bit of both?
Or something else beginning with N?


Someone standing over you and laughing
A street full of derision, tension
The night time economy a flashing mystery
Neon gods whispering, haven’t you got a home to go to?



Image by Thomas Rüdesheim from Pixabay

https://pixabay.com/photos/self-defense-weapon-pistol-risk-4327171/

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