this settlement is hardly a city
lifeless dolls houses
cropping up
in a crust
a wilderness
with a dearth of nature
thin on the ground and failed to bloom.
around here
you come to appreciate a naff cob
for all its worth-
big as your head
and full of mayonnaise.
crossing over the scrub to the station
worn in wasteland paths
pressed down by us corner cutters
back street babes with
back of the hand confidence
cocky village mentality
un curbed even
by the scrutiny of the sun
baring down on the bleak crud
trash and char
a careless picnic in the filth
desolate leftovers
from making hay
Its grim but i know where i am
on my way to being lost
i’m leaving my bearings behind