QUINCE magazine
a literary and visual arts journal
day is dead
day is dead, chicken shop carcass
chalk outlines drawn on the street
the city's rhythm, lost in laughter
haunted houses, broken dreams
last orders, visiting
time over, a vigil on the nightbus home
crushed beer cans reborn as ashtrays; CD
case paired with credit card
roll a dice and pray to know the
feel of losing everything
crowded parties; lonely people
trying to offload your soul
shared rollup in a back garden
a hand moves up inside a bra
hanging out, asphyxiated
banging against the bathroom door
primal desire for kebab wraps
drown your face inside that meat
the end refrain cries out for violence
creeping curfews, pointed teeth
the moon is burning up the city
a ghostly face at the window
the sight of blood excites these monsters
how to break is all they know
no place
no place, just a series of journeys
smell of clothes need changing
wait for buses with damp seats
look out at passing sceneries
colours blur, empty streets roll into
hustling cities
everywhere you look, despair and loneliness
those on the up are fuelled by bullshit
close your eyes, dream of something better
hustle up a few quid
breakfast at the side of the road
got you feeling better
leave a few dollars
or a few dimes
tip your hat at the waitress
the bell rings as you leave through the door
the door closes
and you're on the street again
Simon Alderwick is a writer and musician from Surrey, He has spent most of the last five years living in the Philippines and has also travelled in Europe, Asia and Central America. His work is featured or forthcoming in Eye Flash, Dust, Near Window, Seiren.