I have lain here for seven eternities,
Waiting to begin a journey
False starting numerously
Aching joints and mouth as dry as sellotape,
Ignorant of all calls to justice
Clarions unsettling my sleep,
Everything an interlude,
With mottled hands I pray to a statue of a blues singer on my mantelpiece,
Yet again I awake to the sun setting,
Basketball shoes almost comically big on my finger-toed feet.