Vomit filled streets.

The morning call of savage seagulls tearing at the remains of a vomit filled carton of cheesy chips and some old guys home made mayonnaise. That white salty sauce laying impotent spewed across the cracked concrete as these vultures scream into the empty skies.

These are the roads that I grew up on, threw up on, screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Ratgulls flapping away their disgruntled annoyance as the dustbin men screech into the road leaving a scented trail of rotting food, sweet and tangy clinging to the salty air long after the men tired and bored have finished retelling the seedy details of their sexual adventures.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

The hustle and bustle of a day in the town. People wandering mostly they frown. Cars speeding by for a change in the route, the boy racers, girl chasers all of them familiar faces.Honk once for salute, honk three then flee coming back soon to see if i’m free. Still the days came and went much most the same not a day of those years did I ever think lame.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

The days end, heavy sea mist rolling through the streets cleansing away the Saturday blues. Promises of sex whistling on the clouded air, the deep scent of lust clings to your hair. Cider the choice of the little girls voice. Giggling as they march to the piss filled huts where the guys sit and wait for the girls they will fuck.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Names blazened across the magnolia wall. I was here. Right here drunk and fueled by teenage hormones as the police car came screeching by. Watch this you whispered i’ll pretend to cry. Five in the morning why are you here? What are you doing with these cans of beer? There’s always a fall guy and that was never me, I simply can’t lie as the officers said there’s more you can be.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Vomit stained shoes and fog filled memories that haunt us still to this day. We lost a few good men along the way. Forgotten souls I see them still as the sea mist crawls through the streets of hell, snaking through their blood and the piss where they fell.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

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