Waking to the rhythmic white noise

Television’s twinkling salt and pepper blur

Foil covered rabbit ears like periscopes

Reflect his fractured image…almost blinding

It hurts to sit up straight

Back hunched from decades of labor

Crumbs drop like snow from his cardigan

“What did I eat?”, he mumbles on deaf ears

As gnarled and twisted hands

Brush his remnants to the floor

Feed for roaches and rats that call this home

Day and time are of little concern

What does it matter.

Tormented knees crack

Perched unsteadily beneath him

All he can do is shuffle holding on for balance

The refrigerator fights back as he opens it

The dim light only blackens the mouldy fresco

Decorating the walls and shelves.

Spoiled milk curls the nose

“Been around awhile.” he whispered

Paying it no more mind

Warm beer will have to do

The crack of the tab and the “pusssssh”

Join the metronomic shuffle of his stocking feet

Moaning, he sits

Joints aching from medicine he can’t afford

Alcohol will have to do

Each sip provides little relief

Tired of living his eyes grow heavy

Sleep returns…to the rhythmic white noise

And the televisions salt and pepper blur

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~