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midnight driveTo James Quinton's next piece


walking home after a night out

With haste I pass
The mad screams
Of a drunken vagrant

His midnight confessions
Enthral only his
Demons; his past life

I worse for wear
Scream for my
Bed, cold and empty

I pull my thin
Coat to me
As the rain begins

I lower my head
Struggling to walk
Against the cold wind

At this time of
Day 2 or
3 in the morning

Three things cross my
Mind; suicide, sex
And that vagrant screaming

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