i got home, walked past the dog shit got to my front door. godamn key takes for ever to jiggle and shove. i finally jams it in there but not before thinking about how skin is just a very frail material that happens to keep our blood inside.
fucking crackheads, thinks fred, looking around and spotting one. why i look when i dont like what i’s sees anyone can guess, but thats what i do.
porch stinks but the hard wood floors are nice. the place has got termites, which means its rotting. the grubs eat the wood and shit it out, transforming cedar into feces. tada. rotting things make other things rot, and in nature, we are just things too.
bees come in the open windows. they head straight for the light bulb, head first and slam into it repeatedly at full speed, flying headbangers with cannibal corpse spinning on vinyl in their stepfathers garage.
then the bees burn. they fly in chaotic circles, rogue planets in demonic orbits searching for anything stingable before they die. but then they just hit the floor.
i look down and see a dotted with dead bees, like a graveyard with no flowers. these guys are supposed to make honey and pollinate the food supply, but instead they come to my house and drop dead.
fuck em, i say. one of those bastards got me right between the toes.