The Short Way Home
Evading feral branches and pools of stagnant stuff.
I'm taking the short way home ,
Greasy grass and soaking anarchist weeds saturate my feet,
I'm frozen to the bone all to take the short way home.
Through hawthorn trees With vampire's teeth,
Whose thorns delight in biting soft drunken meat.
Their existence justified beneath the silent moonlight
And soon I am out moaning bloodied and shivering
To start the long traipse through dank sludge
My shoes disappear beneath the earth to be reunited with the land
So here I stand bleeding and barefooted.
With the frost rattling my bones,
All to take the short way home.
Is that the wind or some ancient spirit weeping With laughter.
In the distance beneath the shadow of a bungalow
I see the wall I must scale
Each step is heroic an act bravery
That only foolish men with frostbitten toes can only know
Is it hour or ten minutes I cannot tell
Trudging through no man's land this self inflicted hell
My clothes are destroyed head to toe in smelly stuff
As if I was wrestling on a pigsty floor with a horny and frustrated boar
Oh how I could sing for joy as my muck encrusted hands finally carcass
The cold hard cement of my neighbours wall
With the will of Genghis kahn or one those ancient warriors.
I heave my aching frame over thinking victory is mine,
Only to hear the crunch of shattering glass and I scream words unsuitable for delicate ears,
For I landed in a bin of empty wine bottles and rusty tin
I hear a click and see a porch light been turned on,
"whose out there I got a gun"
"don't worry about it"i nearly cry
"it's just your average drunken fool
taking short way home.
Copyright © Paul Martin | Year Posted 2016
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