Death of another friend

The stillness of the city

Takes me by surprise,

I climb the rank stairwell

To the top of the block,

Step out onto the tarmac roof

And peer across the receding fortress

Of London under night,

 

Lustrous lights burn intensely

Creating a fuzzy incandescent glow

That gives one the impression of

A great impenetrable force field,

Hovering above the streets like

A massive halo…

 

Several litres of alcohol flow

And consume my veins…

Four lines of coke have ignited

And sped up my brain…

 

Neville is dead –

I now have a trio

Of dead friends –

A treble of R.I.P’s

Lee, Jimmy and now

Neville…R.I.P –

Neville is dead, one of my

Oldest friends is no more

A bullet from a policeman’s

Steel chamber consigned

Neville to a cold slab, and

A possible post mortem…

 

I scream in anger, but my

Voice is over ridden by my shock

Therefore my vocal is mute –

I can feel warm tears trickle

Down the side of my face, and

Merge with the snot, that

Flows feely from my nose –

 

I see death laughing in the

Streets down below,

I can hear it, sniggering behind

Me, on this high-rise rooftop –

I can feel its sharp, bitter

Dispassionate fingers, stroking

The carriages on the underground,

It is there -

Touching folk on the top of

Buses, lurking silently in happy

School corridors, resting its grasp

On the frail drooping shoulders

Of the elderly, death is there –

I can feel it –

I have breathed it –

 

The moon above burns through

The evenings sagging clouds,

My heart is heavy,

All noir and mauve

A heavy black olive

Tired, confused and sad –

I long to turn back Neville’s

Final seconds –

To warn him, to hide him,

To deflect the moment

That propelled him to infinity

I want to see him –

 

My screams find a voice

My anger is erect –

Faith is an empty vehicle,

Lacking direction, cause and

Comfort –

There is no higher reason

There is no heavenly state,

There is no doorman St. Peter

Letting us through a gate –

There is nothing –

Just silence –

A pallid eerie silence, on a

Loop throughout time –

 

Upon closing my eyes, I

Can see Neville’s bullet,

Exploding through the air –

Scorching tiny particles

That erases passing atoms

Before piercing and dissecting

His flesh –

Slicing his arteries

Dissolving his veins

Blood loss is excessive

As his lungs struggle for air –

 

So Neville is dead –

Neville is dead –

I punch the wall

And my knuckles explode –

I take a long swig from

The warm lager can, and think –

Memories compress against

My skull –

I remember when we were

Incredibly young,

Seven, eight even ten –

He had an eye disorder

Had to have an operation

His eyes would water,

Was it extreme conjunctivitis?

I take a deep sigh –

It’s funny what you can recall

In bleak destructive moments –

 

I look back at the city’s halo,

My portent of doom –

I feel all common sense

Evaporate, and it swallows me

Completely, before spitting me out –

My grief is a maudlin weight

Bearing down on my future –

I know my life,

Will never be the same

Again –