An Old Man Dies

I've been a prisoner here long enough. My bones are too brittle to withstand the gravity of the world any longer. I've seen my children grow old and go away. They tell me stories of their adventures but their visits become less frequent until they become non-existent. My life partner left me many years ago. Left me to lead this world by my lonesome. She took everything we had with her, my life, my happiness, and my will. I am now stranded here, with no direction home.

Its been almost a year since I haven't left my home. Solitude in these later years is all I have. My friends have all gone and families are no longer available once you've done them wrong. My skin is dry, my mind weary.

We dreamed of growing old together but now, its only me who narrates our life. The weather is cold, and its been raining for several days now. I don't remember the glow of the sun nor the warmth of its rays. I sit alone on top of my bed, the news is on the television set, I don't have the remote in my hands so I leave the television on till the morning.

I awake to static and white noise. My dreams have come a full circle and are now repetitive. The pleasures of nights are now dull pastures into an array of already selected imagery and nonsense. My sense of belonging has long escaped me.

And now I must clean myself. Rid of the dirt that has stained my being. I scrub until my skin turns red. The blood trickles down into the drain and leaves my skin pale. Useless are my breathes.


Sometimes its best to leave the world, exactly how you entered it, naked and cold.