Twix Poem by GRANT FRASER

Imagine the death
of me,
with a bit of Twix
hanging from my mouth,

without ever
finding Jesus,

cheezus!

Or Buddha,

why would ah!

it's just about
the meaning inside
you...

or any moment in time,

the pain
of what goes on
nowadays,
has frosted our
idea of anything
bigger or forgiving,

I just try to
forgive myself
for having lived...

and all the living
things I have ate,
eat me up,
somewhere when I am
more than aware,

a sort of carniverous
survival,

couldn't live on
green,
but would if i Had
too,

my thoughts of anything
more profound
have already run out
on me,

I'm just one of those
things hanging out
there in daylight,
midnight air,

wishing for a care
to jump out and eat me...