Day One Hundred and Fourteen: Second Hand Smoke

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The ignorant pitter patter, and
Inane chitter chatter
Split the dead of night
Outside my front door
Sending second hand smoke,
That accompanies loud yammering below,
Up and through my fourth floor window.
Suddenly; a couple of beer bottles smash
Against the kerb with a gasp
And in between the sound of broken glass
Two men slur their disdain and disgust,
But their cries leave me cold.

Intolerable karaoke and boring bin shed banter are unwelcome at 3am.

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