LITTLE JOHN (LG Draft A.K.A Liam Guthrie) Little John was just thirteen kicking juice cans up and down his scheme All by his lonesome he holds some chalk that he borrowed from his cla**room He's down on one knee as he starts to graph a hop scotch grid in great white squares on the foot path as he laughs to himself thinking Life as a kid at thirteen's great with all this time too waste Imagination is his daily escape from his fate as he scrapes in place a three in a square next to the two and tries to construe what his dad said when he left the crib the first morning of his weekend Before he closed the door here's what his pops said Son these punks on the streets out there don't care for nadda they snap every rung that they step on when they climb the ladder Punishment don't mend their lack of transgression if I'm gonna teach you something son it's this lesson The journey of a lawbreaker's like the journey of a fishing float. It's all plane sailing to begin with. You'll have your ups n downs like a merry-go-round but you will eventually be pulled under by the fish with the biggest hunger Little John dropped his chalk and continued to walk The direction to him is unknown he tries to dodge the cracks with perfect precision foot placements like stepping on stepping stones He's all alone but showing no signs of misbehaving bad behaviour this so called chemical mind overhaul saviour weakens and teeters the line the divides attainment and failure Failure to co-operate with the way the law operates can end with batons swinging and bullets piercing through armoured plates The doc said please tolerate your mental state that incapacitates your lack to communicate with joyful living Sieving deep threw your limbic system coming up black not a single symptom If there's a fault then the doctors missed um Mum and dad kissed him every night every single night when they tucked in the sheets Mum squeezed dad's hand and whispered son we won't be beat Little John stood so nervous as he gazed at the derelict building Nothing in his head now but mischief and grief as he climbed up the steps to the garden entrance
It never lets in light all the flowers look like they've gave up in fright Only moss grows and weeds creep, creep in a maze of twisted tangle Reach for the door handle a voice in his head said so he did and he went in Musty smell of urine dust on the concrete floor like a carpet marked on the wall in black letters call my time is right here right now f** you all My last living words my name is Paul Little John took no notice he walked on, on the squeaky floorboards looking up at the second level foot on the first step hand on the railing It rocked back and forth like rough sea sailing up another step hand back down on the railing Dustless footprints trailing he kept scaling When he reached the top and the dust settled the sunlight was unveiling a spot he never knew existed but was listed in his subconscious like it kind of coexisted with a former life he once witnessed He sat down on the ground next to the window shelf and took a deep breath to gather himself Thoughts in his head thoughts in his head left his mind Little John now as calm as a zephyr the weight on his shoulders lifted now as light as a feather The pleasure in this endeavour never shows on his face as a brick dropped from his hand like dead weight There no way he could calculate simulate navigate even orchestrate the combine split seconds in time from the length of his foot steps from the left to the right and the height of the bricks fall to the ground from its hole in the wall It was no accident. It was one hundred percent meant He's looking down at himself as he bleeds on the cracked cement and coke spews in the gutter like drunken men Little John, Little John, Little John Little John flat on his back a pool of blood on the footpath. Blood bath The consequences of a bricks wrath dropped by a psychopath The can of coke he kicked bounced off the kerb and hit the ground like little John had Leaving another sticky puddle which mixed with the sodden bloody guddle muddy body contents He looks down at himself from the window ledge when Little Johns eyes fogged and the drains ran clear Little John disappeared with no fear