My Passing. C A Middleton 2021
Through blackened vision like coal capped contact lenses, the world reflects no sunshine. Trees, once majestic and yawning, green with life’s kindness, wither and wilt dead leaves. They hang like rotten banana skins, dripping liquor of the foulest scent on to black grass, crying in pain.
I stumble from the well-tended path, through sludge and matted vegetation, with the acid-call of opaque ladies, frosty pale blue skin, eyes like curdled milk, attracting my will to be done with the light.
Their fragile fingers creak as they crook like cash-strapped whores needing the needle’s stabbing love.
I fall into them, a weak-kneed Christ collapsing on to the brethren of my hopeless church.
They lower me to a cold, damp floor. I feel the earth worm burrow into my eye-sockets, searching for a brain. I am climbed on, straddled and kicked. I am laughed at and muddied as I sink, disintegrate and become one.
I sigh in relief at my passing.