4am and

Sleep is stolen

By the screeches

Of the brown booted

Bleached haired brigade

Hovering and whoring

Around the belches

Of beer-can-boys

Who’ll take them

And fill them

With the full force

Of all the nothingness

Their noise once covered

While I plead and pray

For the sweet return

Of soulful sleep

To sooth me

Before light dawns

And makeup smudged

Madams pull mini over muff

Along the shameful slide home

To clamber through closets

Uncovering the creams

And kill the crabs.

Hope it keeps them awake all day!

Footnote: I usually try to aim for Poetic and Polite but at 4am, everyone has their limits, but I guess I should give a big thank you to the customers of the bar across the street who prefer to stay outside and put it all on display, both visually and verbally, who inspired this poetic wander down into the gutter.