Walking Life Away
Alan Ford
In the prison garden at Spandau
a man is walking his life away.
In his imagination he is striding
around the world waiting for time to end.
It’s like pacing around a mortuary
of dead dreams. A post-mortem
of misshapen glory,
a memory of disfigured lives.
For a while he can step out of
his minds straight-jacket,
his feet dragging
the past behind him.
He is a lost traveller yet he knows
where he is. There is a 20 year clock
ticking to remind him of his guilt.
There is only one exit sign.
Like his victims the future is no longer
in his hands. So he returns to his cell.
In his mind he is forming a lie of vision
possessing the world.
Again.
Alan Ford
In the prison garden at Spandau
a man is walking his life away.
In his imagination he is striding
around the world waiting for time to end.
It’s like pacing around a mortuary
of dead dreams. A post-mortem
of misshapen glory,
a memory of disfigured lives.
For a while he can step out of
his minds straight-jacket,
his feet dragging
the past behind him.
He is a lost traveller yet he knows
where he is. There is a 20 year clock
ticking to remind him of his guilt.
There is only one exit sign.
Like his victims the future is no longer
in his hands. So he returns to his cell.
In his mind he is forming a lie of vision
possessing the world.
Again.
