One Foot

Walking home half drunk

Half dead half alive

There were bodies

Hanging from the lampposts

And their faces all looked like me

I was feeling like a ghost

Dragging around a live body

A man who lived passed his time

Who didn’t understand

If the sentence fitted the crime

No choice but to stay alive

I was too much of a coward for suicide

I could have ripped my heart

Out of my chest

But there was nothing there

Black space and a dead stare

I’m living off other people’s prayers

One foot in front the next

We’re going on I can’t say where

One foot in front of the next

God knows but I hope I get there.

Like my poems? Check out my novel A Vagrant At The House Of Love.