venetian blinds

housebound, no cat flaps, no keys left in locked doors

a fat matron ‘come carer’, daily ‘just in case’ visitation

spoon fed liquidized winter veg soup and ‘get well soon’ false courage pills

the world outside on curved screen full HD

that was the way it was before

then it wasn’t anymore


she, the new girl from The Net, calls weekly yet never enters

squeezes his food shop through a reluctant letterbox

packets of this and that to be rehydrated as and when

toilet rolls problematic unless half unrolled first

handcuffs seemed a good idea, a thank you present

for granting her the procuring fodder gig

never expected he would don them; throw away the keys

handcuffs for the agoraphobic, a blessing without disguise


often she wondered what he might look like

fat, thin, young, old, weird or wonderful

hirsute and muscular hopefully

laughter lines unlikely



seven days had passed

rang the doorbell

no answer

‘Must be out and about’

silly thought


after they kicked the door in

‘Still breathing, just’

a paramedic throwaway overheard

took him away


temptation a synthetic thing

tentative step inside an empty house

nothing artificial within a realm so dark

light switches, no light bulbs

she opens up dusty, rusty Venetian blinds

Circa 1950? triple aspect lounge squints; sees long absent light of day

pictures of her in a state of undress adorn the walls

thousands seemingly, downloaded certainly

virgin love letters just for her, composed in a house without envelopes

sicko or sweetie? not sure, awesome calligraphy though


in the kitchen a waste bin, empty save for just some keys

she slips them in her back pocket, with her comb and IPhone

best that way



    1. Was a tad on the creepy side…just told Marissa it started out as a skit about an agoraphobic in training for the London Marathon then the tale drifted off toward the weird…often happens!

    1. Tommy Cooper hats are killing me young Shehannemoore! Not sure if I’m coming or going presently…thankfully a garden in France in the middle of nowhere beckons…demob happy I shall shortly be! Additionally my right big toe is ‘clicking’ and son wants to make a recording and an electronic musical ‘loop’ out of it.! Funny old world.

      1. I worked out the source of the big toe issue. You see my dear wife, knowing that the periphery things of life leave me open to distraction, decided to cut my toe nails (I only managed 3 toes last time before distraction) and, sat upon the bed, attempting to place my foot upon her lap pre the cutting lifted said foot, not by the heel, yet by the now clicking toe. She’s ruined me! Still, when the looped music is the background music for the next Bond movie I shant complain.

  1. ‘temptation a synthetic thing’- nicely worded. I don’t really find this weird, just slightly unfortunate.

    1. Weirder would have been an agoraphobic in training for a marathon by running round his living room quite a lot. Or, perhaps a claustrophobic racing pigeon…yes, that would be weird.

    1. My father in his late 80’s ended up demented (vascular…too many lard sandwiches and fags) turned exceptionally odd and had a young carer gal who was fun yet wary of the old boy…I think this is about her!

      1. Oh Mike, you make me laugh 🙂 I am struggling through jet lag, and am not in condition to comment. My own sufferings made me more compassionate. That creepy old man is sweet, actually. I wouldn’t be surprised if my own grandchildren considered me creepy. Age comes with challenges.

      2. The curse of putting one’s back out reaching for a cup is unpleasant enough, yet forgetting one has odd socks on perhaps worse…street cred etc. How on earth did you get jet lag…have been flying?

      3. Oh yes, came home Tuesday, and can’t tell day from night. Didn’t touch computer until today. Have to put up a blog by Sunday, but my thinking facilities don’t cooperate yet.

      4. I only ever flew the once and hated it. I travel by car, ship or train so have never experienced ‘lag’…the lag bit is the one thing I like to try out I think.

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