wearying, and no way back

i am wearying, and no way back

lonely and near my end

unappreciated three 

times in one day

like peter’s triumphal cock known grown

and when people who love you

do the things they do 

you wonder where justice may be found:

why roundly they condemn you together 

as one.

and if i were playing a part

the heart of my role

would be how ordinary women and men

make it easily the coldest thing 

they have sown 

as down amongst the dirty dirty 

they place with vigour 

the soul of gold i am

with no recourse to a kindly fam.

just more and more of this

shit life piled high: 

one on top of

t’other

like sky grey and grim 

before ultimate 

storm.

for all i do ask 

is a tad of gentleness.

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