For Mick Nash, Great Poet with One Hand,
Who lived in his wheelchair in a care home
This one's for you, Mick, RIP - HJx
# Contains sexual references and strong language #
If you'd like to hear Mick brought to life visit my free audiovisual website: www.isittodayhjfurl.cm

‘How do I feel about our sex scene? You mean, how do I feel about having him inside me? Dirty I suppose, tainted, soiled. But I do feel strongly that the sex scene was crucial to the plot.’

Anastasia, the young rising film starlet, is undergoing parabiosis, having plasma transfusions from her teenage girlfriend, Beth, to keep her young and beautiful, pursuing eternal youth, sex, and stardom. Personally, I think it’s wrong, taking blood from a young girl like that, putting it in her body. Nice tits, tho’. She has got nice tits. I’ll give her that. It’s all, I can do, not to watch.

Doreen broke into my room last night while I was on my mobile to Harriet. You see, Harriet’s nice to me. A kind heart. Rings me every Sunday night for a chat. When I can reach the phone. Anyway, Doreen attacked me while I was propped up in bed,

‘Fuck off, you fucking old cow. Fucking bitch! Fuck off! Get out. Go on! Fuck off! Bitch!’

‘What is it? What’s happening?’

‘Old bag keeps breaking into my room.’

‘Has she gone?’

‘Yeah, she’s gone. She’ll be back later. I’m sorry, Harriet. Sorry I swore. It’s the only way I can get rid of her.’

‘Have you complained?’

‘Course, I’ve complained. What good does complaining do? They told me she’s got dementia. Told me to stay calm while they sort her out. Sorry, I didn’t mean to swear. It was all I could do to get rid of her.’

‘Mack.’

‘Yes?’

‘I’ve got to go now.’

‘Already?’

‘’Fraid so.’

‘So soon? Must you?’

‘Sorry, Mack. I have to go. I’ll try and call next week. Nice talking to you.’

‘And you.’

‘Bye then.’

Bye.

‘How long do I expect to live for? One hundred and eighty. Three triple twenties, the dart score! Do they inject me down there? Of course! How do you expect me to have sex without a prick?’

A male model Marc is having stem-cell injections into all parts of his body, including his penis. I ask myself if that’s fair. Is it fair that he can have injections to keep him so virile, beautiful, pursuing eternal youth, stardom? While I sit here alone in my room, static in my wheelchair, paraplegic, paralysed from the neck down, fat as arseholes, unable to move a bloody muscle except my hand, I write poems, stories with my hand. Takes me forever to write. Like to hear one? S’pose not. Oh, is that the phone?

‘Hello?’

‘It’s me, Harriet.’

‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘How’re you feeling?’

‘Not so bad, you know.’

‘Still writing the story?’

‘Not this week.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘I’ve had my head in a bucket all week throwing up. Had Covid again.’

‘But you’ve only just had your booster?’

‘I know. Have to go. Going to be sick.’

‘Take Care, Mack. Bye.’

‘Why are you following me? Do you like my music? What music do you like of mine? Fancy me, don’t ya? Like my pictures! Never mind, takes all sorts, to make a world. Hey! Not one of those nasty trolls are you? I’ll have you reported. I can do that. Get you into deep shit if you misbehave.’

Sienna, pop star, a female icon on Instagram, has agreed to have her head and body deep frozen when she dies in the hope that, one day, scientists can bring her back to life. I am following her – scrolling her sexy photos with my hand. How else am I supposed to kill the time, stuck inside this room. Isolation they call it, for my own good. Locked inside. At least, Doreen can’t get in.

Jason, the superstar, just posted a photo of himself in an oxygen chamber on Instagram to help him live life to the full. Piotr, a tech-giant entrepreneur, just paid to have his brain uploaded to a computer. Sienna agreed to have herself deep frozen when she dies. Rolf has a nuclear bunker. Marc is having stem-cell injections in his body, even his penis. Anastasia’s having transfusions, blood from teenage Beth, to keep her young, beautiful, pursue eternal youth, sex, and stardom.

I haven’t heard from Harriet for weeks. A thud on the door. The door swings open. Its Doreen.

Can someone legalise euthanasia, please, and put me out of my misery?

I don’t want to live, not like the elite.

 

 

 


Submitted: December 03, 2022

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