resolution

I don't do new year
there is a lot of noise here
none of it is mine

when the chimes kick in
auld lang syne hands are unlinked
as phones point skywards

cascading fireworks
fall on lost souls in doorways
where poverty lies

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Forsaking Auld Lang Syne

The city centre puddles

reflect fireworks in the sky

whilst stripped

Christmas wrapping paper

soaks up the deluge

like a homeless sleeping bag.

Dustbins overflow with leftovers

oiled with greasy greed.

A bottle of wine splatters against

the multi-storey car park wall,

vomited from the throat

of opulence at midnight.

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