Attention. Poem by Steve Caine

Attention.

I threw the last egg at the paper shop,
Looked in the empty box,
Staring at compartments and everything that's lost,
Facing off pedestrians kicking along my can.

As benefits run dry for the melancholy man.

F*** you all! What's the point?
Nothing here for me,
No job, no prospect, not even respect you see.
Windows break too easy, Graffiti all too much,
Tagging up my turf with artistic anger touch.

Going off back home,
Fighting with my Dad,
Broken chairs and hearts long gone,
In melamine and fags.

Hangover in perpetuity,
Weed still in my hair,
Dog barking next door with no one ever there.

Trampolines of disappointment and roundabouts of s**t,
The ever-decreasing circle with me in the middle of it!

No house no job no GSE's,
No way out of here,
While Social Workers and good doers lend unhelpful ears.

So here I walk with head down,
Hopscotch rattling by,
Tooled up just in case,
With eyes that always lie,
then meet you in cold embrace.

Straight in the face! You go down!
Your wallet or your life,
Fifty quid and credit card,
Nice picture of the wife.

Its breakfast time I light my fag and walk down to the shops,
Shoulder barging anyone whilst hiding from the cops.

Six eggs pal and four pack too,
And give me 20 cigs?
Pulling out some cash from the wallet I just nicked.

Another day, another day in circles do I go,
Hiding in my hood anonymous to you,
Until we meet when I'm skint,
and my attention turns to you..