ode to a leper
your arm falls off, like
the old clock, broken and disused.
you have no nose.
The nerves have abandoned you in disgust for your impiety.
Shepherded to your island.
tied to your bells.
get away!
treated like
hate!
hate!
hate!
fear.
Super-stylised Portuguese Twisted into The Mouths of Babes
Old twine holds tight.
(How could you forget the scissors?)
Unfathomable exuberance at opening boxes.
(There's nothing in them anyway.)
Musty smells revive dusty memories.
(Smells like teenage rebellion.)
Yearbooks, filled with people you'll never recognise now.
(And perhaps never knew.)
Not after all these years.
(Your memory isn't what it used to be.)
Video rendered useless by ravenous time.
(Your body, rendered useless by ravenous time.)
Formats too old to be viewed.
(Betamax, you died too young.)
Long-warped vinyl furnishes eerie memories of music long-forgotten.
(It sounded better last time you heard it.)
A sea of violins swaying in time with super-stylised lyrics.
(And you used to sing along, too.)
Uber-cool beats return memories of homework ignored, deadlines fast approaching.
(Chewing gum won't solve algebra.)
The weekly pilgrimage to oblivion.
(It's still easier to buy cheeba than goon.)
We seemed to believe we'd only just begun.
(You never could see yourself undone.)
But here I am, stinky and old.
(The proof is in the pudding.)
Fade into the dark like the thief that you are.
(Screw you, old man time.)
