My screensaver blooms, red, golden, see-through

green, pinks and blues. Hell-cell porridge protein

electric blanket stops me shivering inside. Clattering

my teeth my day is much like any other day save me

From my broken-breaking body, degenerative spinal

Disease. Morpho-gene-etic poetry, things are coming

Apart at the seams can’t go out in my wheelchair

the sun means nothing to me. Paralyzed down my

Right side. Half a man in half a body, the bed-bound

Bed sores are nursed each day one day soon I’ll be dis-

able to shower. Hibernating from covid for

over a year now. If covid doesn’t get me

Negativity will.

 

Like life a pome blooms to wither away, another

Bud to bloom. I have done my bit, three sons I don’t

Remember pomes galore for humanity, me and me

Alone. Solitude is my friend.

 

Death gives me life to live for wanting my self-feeling.

The blooms burst plumes that radiate. Sets me up

for boom bang in my head. I can handle you can you

handle me, shell like blackness behind my eyes.

The blackout eye dream snippet draws me out like

poultice from an olde wives-tale.