gristle

I don’t really have anybody left there, there is no point for me to go back. everybody i know died. my father died when i was twenty-one, my brothers, my mother, my step-father (i hated him) they all died.

yeah, my wife died of breast cancer and i miss her so much.

no, i don’t like it here, it gets boring.

yes, i do miss england terribly.

i don’t remember much it was a long time ago.

while she sits and curses her life, ten others loose their’s.
a father dies, a brother dies, someone’s job is loss.
she ignorantly wishes for death.
everything is spinning out of control.
loose an eye, a limb, a friend, a dog or maybe a kidney.
she does is sit and pout over the lack of clothes.
impairments pop up, health decomposes, one can’t even venture upstairs due to the deterioration of one’s physical being.
her bulging belly worries her.

i never know what to say.
i’m sorry.
i’m so sorry.
i wish things were better for you.

everybody grows old, toughen up Gilly.