some sort of assault

they're planning some sort of assault
talking to each other through the walls
empty toilet rolls
the mockney spills under the doors
it's an effort
whisper tubes buckling under spittle, damp breath

I skim my knuckles over bars
eyes, rape, eyes, knife, eyes, kiddies

we should be able to see the sea
breathe fresh air
watch our sons and daughters grow

I should melt this key into a puddle

I should have floorboards under my bare feet
on a sunday
bottle brush
linen (white) sleeves rolled up
pinching the bum of my fake-titted wife

I get a lot of respect, they get more
snapping their anal scent fingers in each others faces
hiding and discovering weapons made of paper, sticks, plastic

but fear?

I walk to and fro
every night
up and down
hear them
hot and scratchy
worrying like infants