Neither of us will go quietly.
That was obvious from the first.
Her moans and denials and fight are only restrained by the liquid morphine that courses through her veins.
She will not go quietly.
On the way to see her.
On the way to see her for the last time.
I did not go quietly.
The sounds of the engine and the radio could not be heard over my shrieks and sobs.
When the end comes
neither of us will go quietly
even if we don’t make a sound.
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
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June 10, 2009 at 3:41 pm
poeticgrin
For all the humor on your blog, you’ve really been able to chronicle this time with your aunt in an intense way. It feels as if we are looking in on something we shouldn’t be seeing. I know it’s real, and maybe that’s why it’s almost traumatizing for me to read, and I’m not overstating that fact. The rawness of it shows who you are as a person and a writer. It’s some powerful stuff, M’Lady.
June 11, 2009 at 7:59 am
medicatedlady
Thank you.