Pain

One thing about being elderly and alone all you have is your memories. And they come in patches of different ages. Sitting in a room with stacks of magazines and newpapers, dust and cobwebs. With blinds down I smell of urine and body odor. How could I let my life get this way?

 

It just happened -- I don't think so! Was it when my back hurt so bad I could not bathe or get to the tolet in time. Is it because I miss you so much since you passed and took my dreams with you. Tell me! Am I death waiting to die, no dreams, no goals nor do I have friends or relatives now alive. Life for me is sitting in a chair or lying in bed. From time to time I talk with you. Oh wait I do go to the market next door once a week. This is what my life has boiled down too, a frial shell of acking bones and thinly skin of pain. A far cry from that youthful man you loved and felt safe wth. God, if you could see me now,  I would disgust you. Soon my mind will die and then I will be sitting -- waiting not knowing my body is eating itsef to dust. 

 

 

 

Tony Hwilka