Two days before my 52nd birthday
I have the same amount of money in my pocket
As I had when I was 12.
Not enough for a packet of tobacco
But at least I have shelter above my head.
I am going to die like so many
Lonely and un-childed
It is easy to foresee
All because of an unfounded rumour
That I was gay when I was dreadfully
Unhappy with the summertime use of
The word for the last time
I am not but I hate you for thinking so
So goodbye cruel world
I win again with the touch of the knife-blade
To my scalp, I shave it again
For the fear and the anger grow too
Much to survive it as such.