Alexander Pearson

Dead since thirteen years
Walking and breathing,
Constantly falling and fearing the inevitable direction.
Unable to resist the lack of alternate decision.
...

...

Like a pebble thrown fast across a frozen lake
Its passing unremarkable
finally skitters into the shallow mud bank
Seasons slowly interring it beneath the ground
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Riding on a bus:
His foot slipped on the painted iron rail
body falling under imbalanced mass
chin came crashing to the side
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Walking up Sydenham high street.
It was cold, not so cold as you might wear an extra layer
or wish that you had
just cold enough that you are probably wearing the wrong thing.
...

Ring for assistance
Sing for subsistence
Work for insistence
Live for belligerence
...