Alleyways.
by Victoria Scott

Severed nurturing

led me to search

drug addicted alleyways

        illuminated only at street ends

      where dark light gives way to

      hollowed entrances and

        grill iron windows.

Outside the pool hall

      low rumbling voices

      nicotine stench mingled

        briefly entice.

Scurrying to beer parlour window

        fart filled suits and piss

        do not suffice.

Casting aside crippled demented warriors

        wanting in the keyhole

the replacement order brings

Matronly bosoms, cloying velvet glove offerings

of tea cups and cakes

        picking my brain in exchange

                    for solace of sorts.