Fifty-Two.

21/2/14

Izzy circle

izzy

a man
a man with blood on his face
a man with blood on his face and gashes on his cheeks
a man with blood on his face and gashes on his cheeks, carrying a backpack
a man with blood on his face and gashes on his cheeks, carrying a backpack and walking casually

I didn’t think it was blood at first
I didn’t think it was blood at first, I thought it was maybe a birthmark
I didn’t think it was blood at first, I thought it was maybe a birthmark but then I got closer and saw it

pedal faster
look the other way
don’t stop to ask

he looked like he knew where he was going

*

Sarah circle

sarah

This is me knowing that punk really is dead
Watching makeup and food dye and beer and sweat
Swilling over the edge of a basement stage
With a man in his underwear glaring at me
I am holding his gaze and I won’t let it go
And the music’s not loud enough
And the story’s all mud and booze
And no amount of screaming and punching
And hitting the floor with crunchola kneecaps
Can stir a fire in this here heart
But I can’t help but think
Of a scrawny speck of a kid
Held together by hate and heroin
Wading through blood and booze
To find a crumpled soft body under the sink
Dribbling its contents onto the tiles
And him standing so quiet
With a chain round his neck
And his guts round his heart
Knowing for once without a shadow of a doubt
Exactly where all the roads end.

*

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