I am writing this from a boy's perspective
I cannot remember but some very
traumatic instances are etched in my mind.
I took a massive stroke that almost
killed me and left me in a wheelchair paralyzed
with no long-term memory erased. The boy's
perspectives were written before my stroke
so you will have to take my word so wilL I as
I have no memory. I am going to write this
from a boy's eye and a disabled no mind's eye like writing from two lifetimes boy-man and vice-versa.
I suffer from brain injury aphasia-aphantasia, my
left brain they say was erased, wiped my hard
drive so it might seem cold but I have
no emotional engineering, I can't remember my
childhood marriage, and three it's as if forty-five
years never happened. photographs are
my memory so I'll show you images as my mind
is blank at times, from short term, I will try to
make to save on my blog in long term. I can't
cling to memory.
I never felt the beat of my heart until
I was six years old, then it beat like
a bodhran drum I held the mobile stair-
case and my mother's hand like the branch
of a tree when falling. Six years cocooned
in my mother's love and security.
Looking up at the giant steel bird, I couldn't
comprehend how it stayed gravity for me was
a breeze block was thrown up to fall on my head
like this an experiment without blood.
We were going to my father's bastard town
the one he ran from aged fifteen to reinvent
himself and lie his way through life. he was
so dark and deep. the story goes he was left
on a doorstep.
you couldn't trust the conman he was so bent.
i think he won over my mother's good heart
for the six years we moved town, the school
he was running from his lying past.
There are rumours of east end of london
ganglands were gunning for him, why would
you run back to a bastard town you ran from.
N.I.was probably the best place to hide during
the trouble why go to war torn streets in 67'.
Somuch i dont know even my name he used 6
different names, a family of 6 kids born in
a different english city or town. he is buried up
on the black hillsin a plotless we cant find, he died
as he a lonely liar. hewalked out on two little girls
and amother dying of cancer, those girls searched
for thirty years and my mother never knew of them.
i dont want him tosmother this piece but there is so
much i dont know here is my view.
