Fried Slice

The sick baby smell
Is mixed in well
With the first-ish
Turkish pint of the day
The window is armour
Out to the prison wall
Tagged Victoriana
Today no drama no
As quick walkers
With kids enquisite
Pay visits pay dearly
Walk back slow as
Gangsters beamers
Flick tabs street ways
Behind flats of empty
Occupied
Last past near
Five and twenty
Dogs squat and release
Joggers sweat past
Transport police and
Knowledge takers
Plot perspex boards as
Indoors the
MTV selective asks
“What is love?”
Connective handshakes bruv
On wonky flags
Beneath standard windows
Bearing theirs
Crossly for
Welcomes frosty
Will prove
Costly enough
To never recover
But for now
Sisters brothers
In here
It’s mass
For an hour
Take the blood
Fuck the body
Though stained
It’s class
For an hour
‘Spite the rain
Indoors for
Another cold glass
No trouble
No strife no
Taken like
To hold down this
Fried slice o’ life