Walk along with your broken feet
On a broken road, on a broken street
Sir, a token for your merriness,
Here, have your fun.
Sing aloud with your hollow voice,
And let the hallowed hall ring
With jelly coughs, shuffles and chattering teeth.

When you lie on a cold, hard bed
And cold rain seeps through the ceiling cracks,
And the clock tick-tocks like a madness in your head,
What do you do?
Feel yourself for cuts and bruises, I suppose:
Squalor avenged through body art in permanent ink.
A little angry youth preserved - a little hate, a little love,
A little bit of a broken heart?

And you may not know, but I have seen you stare
Heaven-ward with your soul-sucked eyes -
Taking a breath, and going back to graffiti Gods
And tiny, shared cigarettes.
And maybe you feel a peace and ease
In this madness that, I will never know.
But I know somewhere,
Beyond the fangled wastelands,
Scribbled notes and doodled stuff –
There is a happier you.