He wears yesterday's pants.

He wears yesterday's pants.

Nobody knows,

He doesn’t need a clean

Pair to water plants.

Stains on his vest

Mark the spot

Where he wiped his hands

After falling

Shit faced

On the grass

In the rain

On the way home

From the pub.

He lay there

For two hours

Shivering

Unable to get up,

Sprained his ankle

Silly sod,

Until a neighbour came out

To walk his dog.

A euphemism for a

Smoke and a can,

On the back step.

He was shaken up

By the fall

It won’t be long

Before the health visitor

Recommends aged care.

He would rather face life alone,

Every day is a challenge

But the mistakes

Are his to make.

He hasn’t left the gas on

Forgotten his way home

Even after a skinful.

Perhaps if he got himself

Turned around

On the way to Tesco

He might consider

Packing it in.

On his own terms

Rather than being manhandled

By ratchet faced

Professionals

With a passion for

Mixed martial arts.

Given a window seat

A plate of soggy biscuits

And left to sip milky tea

Through a straw

From a plastic cup

With the mouth breathers

And coffin dodgers.