Wounded Urban Pysche
Like the cry from a hungry wolf in search of prey,
a restless urban dweller clears his voice to air an need.
Motherless, fatherless, orphaned out to grey stone pavement fosterage.
Sinking deep, layer by layer into crippling self doubt.
The rocks of his facade dispatched in sequence to the nearest grime-fill gully.
A ghoulish aural trickle swallows up the shard-like dents in swollen batches.
Elephantine complexes within and without.
Internal plagues propel his aimless drift from spot to spot,
dirt bag hod carrier, schooled in fringe art fantasy,
self-taught drop out under brooding moonlight skies.
Phantom kite chaser with time on his hands but never on his side.
Electric eyes peek eerily about the pea soup fog engulfing him.
Firefly knotted angst or bilious tum float from trash can fare to go.
Street wise fox who dwells on stone cold margins.
Late night loafers gape from distant doorways,
they shrug their shoulders,
those padded shoulders.
Pithy another phased out coin for snow cap strugglers,
but still he ambles on, beggar, prayer, aspirant,
aching for that moment when he finds himself at home within his skin.