How I left London

it wasn’t until
my sixth pizza
of the week
did i realise
i wasn’t happy.
and then –
my bike, my love
got nicked & i stood there
outside the station
with my sawn lock
and thought
fuck,
fuck this place,
i want out,
and i said
“God, help a brother out”
and so,
my boss, the prick
fired me the next week.