Not Long Left Poems

leave my home fuelled on vodka and wine,
without my poison nothing feels fine.
Hair slick face finely fresh,
come come feel my boyish flesh.
...

the city's stir a haze and a blur,
each station feeds and gets fed,
never empty never dead.
last puff of the morning fag,
...

cold and wet in another mans land,
slain to the ground by bullets to the leg and hand,
family and friends so far away,
for fighting for your country its the price you pay
...

the life after your first.....

pale white hands, shaking in rhymthic despair,
sweating whiskey droplets from erupting pores,
...

sharing breath,
reaching death,
together,
greeting the morning,
...

as a child,
when the sky at night,
seemed more clear,
i would, with my chocolate.
...

I welcome the day,
when I no longer have to worry about what clothes i wear.
I welcome the day,
when I no longer have to pay for the train or bus fare.
...

I suppose if I did not
have the responsibility,
I would go for complete,
oblivion.
...

uncountable clouds of smoke,
congregate around the yellow ceiling,
hallowing there victims.
...

the sun is sleeping now,
night has stretched into its shift
sounds of day are silent,
there is no hope to give.
...