You know the kind of place I'm talking about.

It isn't the only one.

Drab. Dull. Grim.

We've got empty shops –

smashed-up shutters

thick with spray-can curses.

We've got people

who've forgotten

they're extraordinary.

There is nothing to do.

There is nothing to see.

There is no point in coming.

You won't like it – nobody does.

You won't understand why I love it,

why it makes my heart hurt so.