The Infestation of Croydon.

The city where I am from.

Just a couple miles from the city
there is a town.
Everything is blood-stained and filthy
nestled between white-fenced suburbs
that is exactly where it can be found.

A small town constructed from dust
a place of decaying dreams and rotten minds,
the red air is of marijuana rust.
The citizens all scream out
'Get out before your blind.'

And amongst the scores of withering trees
and scotch-taped shattered lives
beauty has abandoned us, even the bees.
there is an infestation of terrible ugly things
where even the tarantulas thrive.

Only the insane remain
they crawl on hands and knees for their next fix
the only sane man was washed away in the Jack Daniels rain
And you quickly learn in this little place;
humanity and Croydon will never mix
and now only these un-dead creatures grasping a bottle and blunt like a crucifix
and now only the fleas, ticks and Croydonites and co-exist.