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It's My Birthday

by Mark Slaughter

Shit!

Another year – a terse reminder.

Shit!

Another tear; I need a blinder –
Blur the brain of time
And unrelenting age.

O! to be a hero: honed, a sage of life;
Not an ever-ancient me,
Ticking over on a mug of pills,
Holidaying at the ward
(Drowning in a sea of stagnant piss) .

So rest assured, unless I'm cured of
Groaning limbs, a crumbling back and
Fading mind,
Whims of being young again are crass,
And show me blind.

So sod off! and leave me here alone
To face another birthday.

Shit!

Shit!