Loosing All Senses

He can normally smell a rat or two especially as They rattle their cage when leaving the ship Tastes defeat when they have won another day Cuddles their clever escape of untouchable glory The scent at the food bank tickles his hungry senses Christmas choirs herald another day on the street Before he digs in the trash for flavours of injustice Compressed in a doorway he nudges his squeeze Poverty exudes a strange fragrance of survival Soundbites of austerity jingle in a jar bell of loss He savours a few mouthfuls of leftover curry Pinches his skin to decide whether he is still alive His nostrils fill with indelible whiffs of rotten flesh Voices in his head compete for a walk on part From the take away menu distastefully priced Then he doffs his cap and lets go of the rope … 13th December 2019