Sirwin
Sirwin

The Shoe


Leave the TV on, lest there be silence, forbidding we should sink into this pervasive suburban emptiness.  In this house there dwells the breath of an alcoholic spirit that can no longer consume.  They let the commercials play as it masks the spirits presence.  But as I sit and stare out this window into the waking world, I can sense him. 

All the furniture in the family room has been removed.  No longer do we gather.  He’s having trouble finding his way around without the furnishings.  Where I sit there was once a couch.  In it’s final years it served the dying; cats, people, dogs--they all come to soak in the silence.  

In our final moments we all seek to sink into this true emptiness.  The dying and the weak gathered on this old, broken couch to puke and shit and stare out into the waking world--but they did it together.

Dying alone is no easy feat-there is always another being nearby.  Scarcely can this alcoholic spirit recall dying, but he surely was not alone.  And he was loved, as fluffy and thumper and oliver and babycheese and sweet pea and matilda were all loved.  

Despite their love, Scarcely can this spirit make sense out of what he sees when he peers into the waking world.  I wish I could have a drink with him.

             

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Forth
Forth

Dirty Freight Riding Crypto Man-Child Writer Reader Guy


Tales from the Mouth of the Horse
Tales from the Mouth of the Horse

Could be about anything, but none of it is necessarily True

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