Walking Away from the Dying Dog – Mick Hugh

Walking Away from The Dying Dog – Mick Hugh (Mick’s Neon Fog)

mick3

 A silence rings hollow in the bell-tower each afternoon. I can hear it ringing truthfully from my den where I’ve established, a little nest where I can come and forget that only corpses sit in the pews. Only corpses sit in the pews, and any statistic will beget that as many as 10,000 pederasts are currently dealing forgiveness. And the Hindus will gang rape you. And the Muslims tunnel under rubble plotting the end of the West. And the Evangelicals could rebuild Aleppo with their treasure stuffed in political war-chests. Mind you I am the most desperate type.

        My car I haven’t started in nearly a week, and my kitchen is just about out of anything to eat but for the oil in the drip-pan beneath my sink. My phone is on vibrate stuffed beneath my mattress and sometimes I hear it hum: I know the voices on the other end – my boss or my mother or a friend from whom I reneged some important thing – will quietly ask if I’m okay, where have I been? am I coming to work today? I haven’t spoken a word since maybe December 1st….

         I accidentally let myself slip into the crevasse between the back and bottom couch cushions, and was a little sick how neutrally fetal it felt. I stayed there a while to ruminate – Again around noon I decided to masturbate, and didn’t see a reason to clean the couch cushions.

If I drink enough and keep the TV loud enough my head fills with blood and I usually come alive enough to play some music on Pandora.

        I will waste here patiently for a reason to go outside,

        For a reason to swallow the shame when facing another human being,

        Or a reason to get by with the inveterate pain of just trying to survive.

Only corpses sit in the pews:

        And with this in mind, even if you can manage to spend your days at the bottom of the Trevi Fountain collecting your precious pennies, you’ve already abandoned the statues above and now there is nothing left to the muck your mother thrust you into, and, clawing at nothing, you can find, that there is nothing left to color this meaningless void.

[Mick Hugh (Mick’s Neon Fog) is an inspired writer. Having him be a part of Sudden Denouement is one of the things I am most proud of. The second I read Mick Hugh’s writing I was stunned. He continues to astound us all with his irreverent genius. Please take a minute and walk around in his fog.]

Author: Sudden Denouement

A Literary Collective

11 thoughts on “Walking Away from the Dying Dog – Mick Hugh”

  1. This piece reached out a fist and socked me in the gut. And now, I’m doubled over, bruised from its knuckles, reliving a time in my own life that you have shouted in perfection onto paper. If your words can do that, well… I guess I don’t have to say anymore. I’ll just rest a while until I can straighten up and get my breath back. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is amazing, I love the quiet questions and the masturbation stains-it makes me feel less alone this holiday season-this is a bold piece of honest writing and it is heartfelt and true blue-thank you for saying this out loud

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This is hypnotically desolate. I cannot let go of the line “I accidentally let myself slip into the crevasse between the back and bottom couch cushions, and was a little sick how neutrally fetal it felt. I stayed there a while to ruminate.” Challenging, brilliant writing.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s