He wants it. He tries.
He wants it. he cries.
He wants it. Deep down inside.
He wants it. Then denies
He wants it.
He wants it. He tries.
He wants it. he cries.
He wants it. Deep down inside.
He wants it. Then denies
He wants it.
A whack candle holder in enamelled metal holding a white candle which is burning. Undisturbed I think I try to reflect on the stillness and to find the right words but instead of prose I get a big fat nothing and end up feeling empty. In the bed also made of enamelled metal a dying man or woman whose breaths rattle out of an impaired chest then out of thin dry lips opens Rheumy eyes before again closing to the world. A nurse comes and pulls tight the sheets over the soon to be corpse. This is the humane way I observe wryly as I glance at the headlines of the Daily Herald which gives news of the living I think. Better a quick death in the prime of life than this slow wasting into demise I think gripping the newspaper tightly like my own grip on life depended on it. People should not see that I think.this It’s too.real…I couldn’t find the words and let out a lot of air. I must have been holding it I think glancing down at the print again.