Post by Just Fred on Nov 11, 2010 18:32:26 GMT
It has been some years now since my Elisabeth passed, more than I can remember.
To be honest though, sometimes I don't remember what I did yesterday. Other days I think there is an Asian man hiding in my wardrobe. And I didn't get my breakfast today, again.
My Elisabeth was a gentle soul. She is the only woman I have ever loved and I loved her with all my heart and soul, I say Asian but I can't be sure, he could be mixed race.
My years have advanced so much and I am slowly losing my mind in this Nursing Home. It seems like we are all sitting here waiting to die. I am scared that one day I shall wake up and not remember all the things about Elisabeth that I have tried to cling onto for the last so many years.
I am also worried that it is the Asian man who is responsible for my breakfast going missing. I tell the Nurse that I would like my breakfast in the Dining Hall but still she leaves it at the foot of my bed.
I want to die before I forget all about my Susanna, but I am scared to die yet because I think I have lost my faith in Jesus. I know she would have gone to heaven and I really can't stand the thought of dying and not ever seeing her again.
We had so much fun up until the tumour that attacked her first stole her mind, then her life. My Elisabeth was such a gentle soul. She is the only woman I have ever loved and I loved her with all my heart and soul, I say Asian but I can't be sure, he could be mixed race.
I remember coming home one day and finding her sat naked atop the car of our neighbour Mr Johnson. He was a coloured man, he was lovely. He understood that it was her illness that had caused her to behave in such a way. He wouldn't even let me pay to have the faeces that she had smeared all over his windscreen cleaned off. He even drove her to the hospital with me whilst she sang horrible racist songs and questioned him about the length of his manhood. I had never heard her swear before that day. The filth that came out of her sweet mouth.
My neice led me to this site. Or was it my grandaughter? I don't think I have a neice. I have a grandson who is one of those homosexualists but I don't like to talk about that. My niece is one of those lesbianos. No, I made a mistake, it was my grandaughter, Michelle. She is a beauty. She is a barber now, or a hairdresser as she corrects me all the time. I think my grandson is one too (a homosexualist, not a hairdresser). I don't like to talk about him.
I can't believe the selection of chocolate available in the sweet-shops these days. They took me and the Captain for a walk today. I have never seen so many sea-gulls.
My poems are what keeps me sane. But I am still annoyed about that Asian.
