The Last Bit.

Dedicated to the man whose death I wrote about last night.

Fourteen Days

Day One
What is happening to me?
I fall to the floor.
I struggle to get up.
I cease to breathe.

Day Two.
I stare at the ceiling.
The warm air wafts over me.
Someone soon should find me.
Where are they?

Day Three.
What is that smell?
The ants and flys begin to swarm.
Someone soon should find me.
Where are they?

Day Four.
The gas builds.
The gut bloats.
Someone soon should find me.
Where are they?

Day Five.
Does no one care?
Has everyone forgotten?
Someone soon should find me.
Where are they?

Day Six.
Am I to rot here?
In this domestic time capsule?
Someone soon should find me.
Where are they?

Day Seven.
One week of staring.
At the ceiling so drab.
Someone should have found me.
Why haven't they come?

...

Day Fourteen.
Two weeks now.
What's that sound at the door?
Someone is knocking.
What do they care?


Good night.