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Below is the third - and, so far as I can tell at present, the final - draft of a poem for which I have been quite unable to find a title to...
Saturday, 14 July 2012
It has been a lucky break.
After reaching my breaking point
and nearly breaking down in front of him.
Then breaking out in a cold sweat
Then thinking him about to break my dream
when he became emotional and his voice broke.
"How can I break this to you...?" he began.
"Go for broke!" I said. He did!
In the dream, lost and hungry in an overgrown brake,
I had broken off a succulent and eaten it.
At once strange body parts had broken through my skin.
I had consumed the Devil's Breakfast and would never die.
The Doc broke in upon my thoughts: "You have three years!"
Such relief! Immortality would have broken me for sure!