The noose

Whiskey shy, shouts crash through these thin walls. 

"Fuckin sort it out"

"Go on en, fuckin go on en!"

"Na didn't fuckin think so"

"Chicken shit, useless fuckin prick"

Outside smoking, the back door opens. 

Neighbour

Muttering through ruffling of hair

He sits down, elbows on knees, and head, finally, falls. 

Smoke rises between his curtains

Hands held out limp, clutching death between fingers

I glance at him

Broken

inside she's still screaming 

"You alright pal?"

I ask

His head picks up, hands clench, eyes quash the glistening that has been growing inside them. 

"Yeah" 

He smiles. 

And then sighs. 

Looks over to the open door

then to the opposite end of the garden

and back at me

drops his head again

"It aint too late"

I tell him

"It's never too late"