I visited a nursing home three weeks ago
and this might sound awful
scratch that this is the worst thing I have ever said
and probably the worst thing I will ever say
every single person in that building was already dead.
There were corpses rotting from the inside out
being sat in front of television screens
and wheeled around to sit next to their skeleton friends.
I could see the worms swimming around behind their eyes
and going in and out of their ears,
devouring what was left of their sanity and humanity,
and I got this feeling they could infect me with the worms.
And what if I got worms and they ate away at my skull
and swallowed my brain,
the only thing that gives me worth.
what would I be good for? writing about worms?
And then I felt guilty that I was more worried about myself
than I was with comforting these corpses,
and lying to them that they look so young and beautiful,
when I think I might see some gangrene growing and
God what if it gets on me and I am sentenced
to bed rest while I wait to die
when all I really want is for someone to take a shotgun
and blow my brains out – worms and all.
And the nurses were so nice but
they were infected with the worms too
and it was a slow spread
but the worms were already feasting on their lives.
Why would they do this and live in a coffin?
And smell like acetone when they go home
to pretend they aren’t sick with claustrophobia
and age and osteoporosis and probably skin eating bacteria?
When I visited the home I saw an eyeball falling
out of the skull of a corpse and rolling
across the cheap linoleum
towards my foot and i saw the iris touch my converse
and I felt the necroses cover my foot and leg
Oh God it is crawling up my whole body
and covers my eyes and I can’t see please God
just let me die, don’t make me suffer here.
Emma Gail Compton