You know you’re reaching adult-hood when
you start attending funerals.
To begin to comprehend the reality and the
surrealness of death.
Taking comfort in ancient words as
custom words are useless.
My chorus of homeless thoughts
struggling bearly for breath.
Hoping the good souls sail on
and their chosen endevour rewards them.
For living is a choice to be taken,
it can be forced from time to time.
In death, golden tea is poured over
memories happy and sad, your reflection at its clearest.
Luke-warm, spirits surround us
turning time back.
Sips intake a being no more,
until the drops are gone, then you can rest.

Happy Birthday

Happy birthday to my little brother who ends his teenage years today. Also happy birthday to my mate Andy, who I’ve just found out shares his birthday with my brother. I should have known this as I’ve known Andy for about 8 years and have been out for his birthday more than a few times. Oh well, the ignorance of youth. It’s quite bad because I can’t remember what I did for my 20th birthday, it normally turns into a weekend affair as it’s near a bank holiday. 20 is quite an innocuous age, although one of my favourite championship manager ages.

My skin seems to be falling off at the moment but it’s ok, it grows back, must be the time of year.

Nap: Taxman (2.00 lingfield)
Tune: This Et. Al. – Pigs Make Children Sick.


How do you know
my age?
I gave birth to you
20 years ago.