Took out an old, unpublished poem and did some rewriting. Nasty.
block 115
this place, home
to lost years
of our youth
this turf
we stayed
nerves taut
as we stepped
out
of doors
to walls
slashed
with graffiti
corridor lights
blown off
shards on floors
taunts
that stab
like barbs
and
parang slashes,
needles and
the dark vomit
last night's
alcohol
meths
like squashed
spiders
on stairs
festering
a wound in
the city's innards
the cigarette
butts that were
burnt to the filters
every tobacco flake
every grain
of heroin
was too expensive
to waste
like life
that tinge of
helplessness
on faces
too immune
to pain
too lost
in suffering
this place we
called home
and i still
love her
despite what she
threw at me.
because i am
a fool.
01/07/2008
21/04/2013
**********
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ), 2013
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