The Savage Man - Poem

The Savage Man

My home is a pavement, a doorway, a bench
My clothes the only barricade I have from the cold, the wind and the rain
Layers of filth tarnished with blood, dirt and dust
Shoes well worn – battered and bruised like an old friend left for dead on the battlefield
Visible yet seemingly invisible to the naked eye
A sign around my neck that says quite simple ‘avoid’
‘Spare me some change’ my only war cry
Once said with passion and hope, now words that catch like poison in the back of my dry throat
A blanket of sudden deafness carpets the ears of those who deem to pass by
Like an avalanche of snow that falls in seconds from the sky
Fingers point accusingly at my shrivelled body
Cross words muttered silently under people’s breath
A turned head, a smirk, spitting in my face
It is a war out here living on the streets
Drunks and drug addicts have tarnished my name
Labelled me dangerous, violent and possibly insane
A menace to society
My body aches from the constant damp and cold I endure day after day
My mattress is hard, my pillows I have none
Sleep is a novelty, a risk I am not prepared to take
Closing your eyes is a highly dangerous game
Wake to find your possessions gone, lost forever
A photo of a man with his wife and kids catches on the wind and blows away
It is like it never happened; there was no life before this
A stream of warm water falls onto your face like a welcoming waterfall
Opening your eyes reveals a deranged human being standing over you laughing merrily as he urinates in your face
A sick game, a dare, a harmless bit of youthful fun
A living, breathing human being becomes nothing more than a lump of meat
A toy, a pathetic creature, some sad individuals play thing
Burn me with lit cigarettes; beat me up – who cares?
Food like gold dust
A treasure map of hope and constant longing leads to every bin or skip
A half eaten sandwich, a tossed away mouldy burger and chips
A culinary masterpiece, a meal fit for no one but me
I am a king lording over a stately banquet
I eat like a starved animal not stopping to take breath
My stomach churns over and over unaccustomed as it is to any morsels of food
I do not have time to savour every mouthful, relish the taste
It is a jungle out here
Like a man on death row this could be my last meal
The wrong place at the wrong time and I could so easily wind up dead
No sink to wash my face, no soap
A puddle, a dripping tap – dirty water for a dirty man
A shop window my mirror
A man I barely recognise stares back at me
Hollow eyes, dark rings from a lack of sleep
Cracked lips, dry weather beaten flesh
Where is the manicured man I used to be?
Lost under decades of hurt and betrayal
Worn away by endless days and nights just trying to survive
To carve out some kind of pointless existence
Destroyed, beaten and forgotten
Once a father, a husband and a lover
Look at me now – just a sad statistic
Another number on a government list