Co-operation I.P.

There is no co-operation, she said.
while wrenching him forward in the bed
[He sat there] ‘Like a bloody statue’.

The ‘Carer’ was rough and he, in thrall,
felt his wasted shell flopping; a rag doll.
He uttered no rebuke or acknowledgement

He revels in the pain of her grabbing,
As the blades of conscience began stabbing;
battling unassailable memories; losing.

Braking and breaking, the rictus smile set;
the face of a dream that a nightmare met;
devouring his mind like a parasite.

The recall of beauty that born to his care -
screaming and breathing the life giving heir -
to usher his soul while remaining; mourning.

History has no future when future is past,
what cannot be present can surely not last
and all lives that are lost have no founding.

Though not about blame guilt comes into play
and perversely, he’s glad he was driving that day
for the guilty need rancour to feed off

His living corpse crippled, with anguish entwined,
he prays for the shroud that will blanket his mind
but from god, there’s no co-operation.