L s d on Belfast

A very strange walk home from a bar  

Feral women and rabid men reel their way through drunken streets.       

Faces pressed up against windows of gold dust taxis ,passerby signal with one or to fingers 

Abuse fills the entries and doorways as steam rises from were the stand 

On down the road tomorrow's rubbish rains down on the puppets in uniform they beat the shit out of another soul so they can collect the queens head 

Quieter now, a more refind drunken crowd approaches they glide past filled with large men and waif like girls who disscuss the evening in little detail

One of the men waves scarf in my face and tells me a sports score ,I had no intrest .

Quieter now ,half way between hell and home .

Voices in the distance fade but the tribal beats from the cars hurry me on.

Money gone , time spent 

I'm so looking forward to never doing this again but I know I will 


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