Current: Looking out of the window
Recent: Drinking coffee
Previous: Stretching
Early: Having a sleep

this is my grave
the place where I rot
a corpse with no decay
and a pension plan

I
remembered you
when I

walked
slowly away

and you lay
quiet and eyes shut
on the bed

as though in thought

in my thoughts

and now gone

frolics

and not

florics

which, apparently, is
blollicks

you say I’m not old
I say I’m not immortal
I can’t fight the strength of the
bus
if it knocks me down, tomorrow, in town
and you never know
whats around the corner

I am not

The brother of Joel
An environmental activist
Still at school

I am

Wearing black
vegan
finding my place

I love the smell
of your hair
on the pillow beside me

it helps me to sleep
but
I’m sorry when I kept it
I left it attached to
your scalp

I am no longer the same
as you, for the brain
inside my head
is already dead

a shrivelled fruit on the vine
of my spinal cord
fermenting inside me
and making new wine