The Alley

What darkened alley I find myself in
Surrounded by a stench that reflects what’s within
I search for the street, the open moonlight
But the grime and the filth blocks all exits from sight
Stumbling blindly I bump against walls
Soot gathers on my clothing from this damnable hall
I shout for direction into the black
But here in the darkness no voice calls back
So I stagger and swagger and trouble along
With the voice in my head screaming “this is all wrong”
I should not be here with this garbage and sludge
Yet the bottle I carry looks at me as my judge
Conceding defeat I place my back to the bricks
And slide to the ground, though it makes me sick
“Never again will this alley keep me,
Never again will I not be free!”
Sentiments whispered to the insects and rats,
Who feast on the refuse and hide from the cats

© 2004 Matt Naylor