Page 31.

Voices from the dead
reverberate to
hang off walls within my head and
I am being led down darkened streets,
the chatter scatters everywhere,my brains explode,
I'm loaded,locked in casket town,
on the top floor going down. but then
I smell fresh aubergine and realise
a dream is underway, I know
sunrise never lies to me,not surprisingly
the voices of the dead reinvent themselves,
become the racket on the radio
that lays beside my bed,
unlocked
unloaded
unexploded
I am still
the bomb.