Thursday, 8 December 2005

My Dead Best Friend


Ever since Michael died, aged 16 in 1992 about a year ago today, I've been dragging my past around with me, my dead brother over my shoulder and we're trying to make it back to safety after our mission went so horribly wrong.

And I keep talking to him as if he's still alive but he's been dead forever and sometimes I forget he's dead and I get angry when he doesn't respond to my incessant, stupid chatter. And then I remember. And I still lug his heavy corpse on my back, trying to get him home safe, because that's what best friends do for each other.

13 years now brother

It never gets any easier

I miss you

You were beautiful