D.C.I.A.M.W

I was thinking about this today.
Mainly how I was meant to jot something down
about the woman who had made my baguette.
Nothing exciting, just tuna mayonnaise with
sweetcorn, lettuce and cucumber
on brown... please darling.
She was blonde. had the makings
of an attractive woman in her fourties.
Sadly both her eyes were heavily bruised
and her lips torn ragged.
Stress had aged her badly.
The sandwich was okay,
but it tasted different from the one the other day.

Just tonight, walking home with a colleague,
I had to explain to her why, even I,
wouldn't walk home with my headphones in.
She told me the music was never too loud,
so I asked her to stop talking.
She couldn't hear my footsteps.
I showed her the place where a girl was dragged
from a busy night on the town
and raped no more than 50 yards from the high street.
I'd keep all my senses open, is what I said.

I hate to end the evening on a dark note,
but everything from the bicycle gangs
and the lack of real love
is starting to kill me a little.
Protect yourselves... And the best way to do that
is reduce how easy you look.
Don't wilt to these fuckers.
Keep your face
in these dark times
as influence doesn't offer alternatives
to break the flow,
but instead panders to the greater numbers.
The greater numbers of cunts.