To Whom It May Concern 523

The floodlights lit the street dimly,even more dim and fuzzy since I came from the pub…
After work then spending 10 hours at the relief hub only a few glasses of black foam would stitch me right,it also helped to forget everything I had seen in the past few weeks.
So making my way home a black detectives car creeped behind me as if I wouldn’t notice on abandoned disheveled streets,normally they would just tale me to wherever I landed and drive off…
This time two glorious blue and white squad cars finally decided to pinch me into a fence for some good old NYPD chat and frisk..
With a big black dong Maglite in my face
“So you coming from the bar or you down there with those shithead Occupiers?”
A little of both officer just making my way home..
“Says on your I.D here you lived over by the avenue”
I did but after at the moment I am heading to a freinds house where I am staying
“You seem to spend a lot of time on the avenue with those freaks,your a big shot eh?”
“So all you do is just give stuff to people and food,sounds like bullshit”
Well people need since well nobody else just a shit about anyone around here
“We give a shit about you sewer rats around here that’s why we watch you go from here to there..gas cans and bullshit sneaking around you don’t have a home anymore,you don’t exist..you might as well just crawl in a fucking hole because these neighborhoods don’t matter to anyone”
Are we done officer? I am going to miss my train,thank you for your caring words

Everything that had transpired in the past month went nuclear inside my chest..
I wiped the tears from my face as i got off the train into the glare of a buzzing black and gold neon sign then aimed for that beacon.The bartender gave me two pints up front on the house because of all the whispers in the bar.
My phone rang and we planned on how to feed 400 more people that weekend.

It’s just another story,
Liam

 

First loves are hard to shake like well wishing addictions
no one can combat a hustler muse and her side street charms
she loves me not
throwing me to the money wolves lusting after her curves
luring me back
promises of being the favourite boy never to be traded
so I will always sit elsewhere
waiting for the scorching heart to call me home stumbling
to burn up what is left of a concrete kid
born in a tale of cities

A past life of B-side cover versions
outcasted out takes to the backbeat
Set against misheard lyrics
heathen scripted harmonies
that will never be heard

Ich lüge Bullets

After all these lives one thing remains glaring and residual but still unsaid by the circled masses
whispers hidden under breath warbled behind closed doors
pointing the finger at the others hands
fearful judgement
a climbing ape being weighted with blind grips of other lost dreams
craving burgers and everyone to be their way
all these lives revolve to this center core
the self diminishing self for the sake of a shiny smile
laughing as the child spares the rod to forget the muse
trying to remember just how the majority rules
caring eyes steering the barge of fools
anchoring lives to substandard stools
branding themselves king of the lunch hall
because it’s all one big primary school
all these lives frowned upon from closing doors with cackling open windows
always outside
cursing the horrible clashing drapes

There is an old familiar feeling of the warm numb reality staring clear through
what has come to pass into the future road infinite in it’s hell and perils
vast with beauty that will never be viewed
bought and sold shaming the dawn with a price a tag that lowly beggars dare not even read
the anxious muscle cringes in front of the truth and the retinas turn downward
feet keep moving for the weight pulls forward knowing how selfish it is to go reverse
for genesis is the only part of this that can be erased