The Poetry of Human Pity

Under the School bus
Gravity object's
to my dying breath.
Outside the sun is nothing
but a cigar stump
as useless
as a litre of
an old man's
weak piss,
Like rain,
it gives the road
a oily shine.
Sirens pierce silence
like metal pierces organs.
Crowds stare
with beady eyes,
in time
with the click of the
camera phone
scares birds.
the gentle rocking
of crap coffee
consumed by
today's spectators
back and forth
that ends in a cataclysmic
crescendo
Its a pity
that all I have left
is there pity
or do they have mine?