As if an absolved con

As if an absolved con
let free on Brighton’s
crowding of streets &

auld ways – a masked
artist loosed from his
cell & then a terror of

skin presses  – He had
not endured it since?
[Blocked ways were a

grip on his throat – air
restricted – less space
for breathes – in – out]

Not one had said that
his release was going
to be played-at easily –

it’d been said he may
have gone too quick –
& headlong in to that

soft crush of people &
so begged for his cell –
So cried for loneliness