There is no redemption

There is no redemption

In regret

Or freedom in remorse

The weight of conviction

Is burden alone

To be carried

Through the long days

When the temptation

To drown

In desolation

Desultory self-recrimination

Is barely concealed

By the dimness of light

Pooling through closed blinds

The view of an alley

Barely obscured

The sound of capricious laughter

The casual bartering

Writhing bodies, swept up

In pretence

For the price of a wrap

Of cocaine

Cut with baking soda.

Outside

The first two courses of brick

Are splintered from the kick

Of restless heels

The heaving thrust

Of sad souls

Lost in the murk of the city

The smell of failure lingers

In the tumble

Of litter

The over-stuffed bins

The scrawny mew

Of an old black cat

A life on the prowl

All but gone

Looking for a quiet place

To pass his time away.

The bedroom is no sanctuary

Or royal box

But it is a window

On the river of souls

Who pass below

And fishing,

For want of amusement

Is a difficult habit

To break.