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Though I can’t condemn you more – no one could
I’d gladly understand a little less
But in anger way past anger, bitterness beyond bile
I too might fail to wrestle the beast in me.
Yet it’s one thing to see la bête humaine
Another to explain quite how you came there
Relative poverty and petty degradation –
Backstairs in hotels where smoking’s a misdemeanour,
Airless in apartment blocks where the sun makes no concessions,
Arrested for small crime and once upon a time
Driving asleep at the wheel,
These count for little against you playing
Space Invaders – carry on le camion,
Bleeping the lives of others like dots on screen.
And what about the sex you used to fix yourself?
The dating app, the roving eye, a bare
Chested selfie shot against the salsa sky.
Scenario for an Amy Winehouse song, already awry.
‘Holy warrior’, how could that be you?
Whichever one you were at any time, the other came too.
The parts don’t match, p’rhaps that’s the only point.
No single mode makes sense of your existence.
For this poor patchwork you brought Perdition to the Promenade?
When you’re the only one, Bouhlel, who should be on the road to Hell.