The Day of Judgment

My bloodshot eyes water, on this Day of Judgment, 

Shaky shirt buttoning, trembling tie adjustment.

The manic, raging bull has vanished, whence he came,

A nervous wreck in his place, a dormouse born lame.

Six months of fire starting and tsunami surfing, 

The euphoria is over now, see the fall of the curtain.

Unanswered prayers for this day to be adjourned,

Such hopes were long ago scattered from the urn.

The long, silent drive by hearse to Crown Court, 

Outside clear skies, inside sleet and hail downpours.

Twitching hands, pounding heart, throat lumping,

Staring up at rooftops we pass, fantasising about jumping. 

Outside, a pregnant woman chain smokes Bensons,

This is the lowest tier of rock bottom and then some.

Indoors awash with suit trousers and Adidas Jackets, 

Playing with Lego, a child victim of his father’s drug habits.

Here I am: grammar school, straight-A student, law degree,

Golden tickets squandered; I stand out the most sordidly.

Gallery paintings of urban decay, in just a few minutes, 

The car crash portrait of my life will be the main exhibit.

The silence of my barrister tells me this is a lost cause,

Second chances belong to someone else today, not yours.

Re-reading the case file, drunk on fear and suspense,

Bipolar rage and intoxication are not a legal defence, 

“Mr Hughes, this way please,” fate sealed with a kiss,

Jesus Christ, help me, how did it ever get to this?