Dont go to Canning Town.

As another gloomy winter morning rears it’s head, i can think of a million places id rather be than canning town. Amongst the council estates and warehouses you’d assume there was an ounce of good nature, but i can’t find it. Don’t smile at passers by they will only think it strange, just keep fixated on the floor and pass through. It is six in the morning and things are already heating up. A police car outside a corner shop parked in a way which only can mean he they aren’t there to shop. Locals eyes look me up and down, brows narrow to form a frown. Out here i am too strange to bear, is it because of my clothes or is it my hair?
A drunken man stumbles in front of a car with his arm in the air stopping oncoming traffic and another police car arrives to get him back to the pavement. I must plan my escape from this godforsaken place. I have to ask a local for change for the bus. As i ask her the question her gargoyle features crease and instead of replying she just stares into the road. I take it as a good sign she doesn’t steal my soul as well, and walk to the nearest petrol station. I plead for the number of a local taxi rank. The shrew behind the counter can see i am in distress and i can tell he enjoys giving me no help what so ever. Oh lord, i must get away from this. I am stuck in some kind of unfriendly pit that time forgot. I start to believe there is something wrong with me, that i am making these people act like arse holes.
Looking at the many ugly tower blocks i wish to see a nuclear bomb. A beautiful mushroom bloom from the pavement reducing this shit heap to mere rubble. I get change and receive more strange looks. I feel like i have faeces smeared on my face or something to antagonise these people. Finally at the bus stop i wait. I see only blank, bleak faces. Something in the air has stripped everyone of their soul. There are no colours here. The man who was stopping traffic does the same and sits next to me. He talks about the police telling him to stop stopping traffic and hands me a book about god. I never knew i would find god in canning town and i never really wanted to find him, however i did and he was drunk covered in scars. The bus appears on the horizon the last ticket out of this nightmare. I abandon god and board probably the best ride of my life. As i look back i sincerely hope this is the last il see of canning town.