The layers of Roy Onion

Sunday, 8 April 2012

They came at us,

Twenty or so skinheads,

For no apparent reason.

Maybe it was because 

I didn’t have a skinhead

Or a Harrington jacket.

Next day saw me in new clothes

And a new haircut,

Just like my brothers.

The colour of childhood is 

Sunshine

Like that time when

(You know)

We loved each other

Every day.

I saw Liam punching your head

And I ran

Like a three year old

(Or was I four)

And my eye was blackened

And your smile said sunshine.

Their praise wrapped me up

Like Jesus rays

Coming down from the sky

(Which was sky blue)

Filling me up like meditation and

Turning my heart into a sun.

Beehive hairdo

Lipstick on the piss

Clotted mascara

Nicotine stained teeth

40 per cent proof breath

Bleach wrinkled hands

Oversized knuckles

Chipping nails

Yellow skin that makes the sound of paper rubbing together

Neutron 9000

Replace the need for tackle

I'm gouched out and fantastically numb

Occasionally wiping stroke induced dribbles

From my face 

With the back of a spastic shaped hand

It's glorious