Uncle

Reg has been caught again by the bottle this time he has nearly gone too far. He paralyzed with drink and hallucinating on the grog he sees his dead Uncle …………….

Uncle

The room was spinning, the cartwheels have come,
He’s laying unconscious with black clear thought,
His breathing is shallow
His heart pumps a beat
The voices, there rolling echoing to the distance
A murmur, a rumble the beat pumps loud
Hold, he see something coming out of the crowd
It’s uncle, it can’t be he’s dead and his gone
So who is it here telling him he’s wrong
He weep without mourning or shedding a tear
inconsolable loss it’s touching its near
The fears of morning are flames in his soul
Burning devouring the likes, he has told
He speaks
But he cant hear
He says hold your head near
His head wont move and he wont come near
The vomit tears up from deep in his bowl
A clogging thick liquid shoots out of his mouth
Filling nostrils filling his throat
Seeping back, down, deep to his lungs
The breathing is laboured
It stops
The pumping is louder
She grabs him, the cough rips from his throat
His breath is a gasp
The stench, the foul air is taken to his lungs
The blackness has been lit, stars craze around his vision
Light slips to his retina
Flashing tearing into his mind
Consciousness
Living, near death experience
immobile
She cries “ WHY CANT YOU STOP”
He hears a muffled sob, he wants to move, but he is paralysed
Paralytic
The drink
Has embalmed him
She sobs
He is happy he’s still alive
He can hear the sound of the pump, still beating
A sadness grips him
He realises finally that he can not stop
Drink has become his life
Drink
Is going to take his life
Drink
Has ruined his life
Drink
Is what he needs most
He tries to lift his head
But nothing moves apart from the inside of his soul, trying to grip at reality
He hears the door bang
She’s left him
He try’s to stand and stumbles
He has a memory
Flashing memory
Was she here
What did his Uncle want?
What was he trying to tell him?
Was he coming for him?
Was he trying to stop him?
He too had died with drink, stumbling in the way of a van on the way home from the pub
Drunk unconscious on the floor
The tyres from the van, squashing his head into the tarmac, killing him, dead
Was this hereditary