As he stepped off the plane
The heat hit him like a sledgehammer
Then there was the hospital digs
"Spartan" not quite the right word
Yet he put on a brave face
Against this Territorial death wish
Wave upon wave of human trash
People determined to drink
Themselves to death or die trying
Never questioning why, just dying
Their insides turned to mush
Brain dissolved, will to live gone
Walking the land like ghosts
Drips half hanging out their arms
Drool hanging from half open mouths
As they collapse on shaded paths
Here would be a good place to lie down
He shops for bare essentials
Survives on four hours sleep
Awaiting the next wave
Not of arrivals by boat
But departures by alcohol
© shaun patrick green 2013
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