His whiskey legs, like pistons,
Punch the heaving city streets.
And splashing through the noise and rush,
He reaches out to meet,
A rolly, dangling from his lip
splits smoke escaping as it lingers;
Ringing ‘round his withered wrist,
It slips between his fragile fingers,
Waiting arched like spiders legs;
Poised to pinch it from his bite,
‘fore it drops from drooping jaw,
That hangs aghast in false delight;
At delirious reflections,
That deceive in shop displays.
His ferocious form is famed,
His haggard cheeks all gone adaze.
And with pumped up chest and chin,
He grips his precious moment tight;
And strains to hold his lie within;
Yet, as if it all to spite,
He sees himself, each sorry choice,
As waypoints gone adrift;
Untethered now they dance in flight,
Like embers dying as they lift.
And weakening; his chest relents,
It cracks and bends to pull the spine.
Wherein his breath obliterates;
The fantasy sublime.
His mind; unpaused onto to street.
Again the city grinds.
And steadying, he takes a drag.
Two steps to fall in time.
If you like it, share it!
Thank you so much for reading my work. It means a huge amount to me to have even 1 minute of your time, let alone the attention needed to read and understand these words. If you like what you see tell other people about it - it is the absolute best way to support me and my work and I would appreciate it hugely.
Read more from Season 1…
This is the first season of Notes and Noises. If you liked this (or didn’t) why not take a quick look at some of the other posts in the series:
A Cracked Thing