The Walls Bleed with Termites (vol. 2)
by Michael King
Lights beaming, flickering like an unstable man twitching with anxiety.
Crawling, racing, they compete with their lives on the line – who gets to the bag of rice first? Life’s complex question. Who survives?
Reliability, a rarity. Like a man with weathering emotions, reliability is a falsely sold dream;
Their noises, fast as a tornaduous wind whistling through the walls, with each flickering light. flick, flick, flick.
The walls bleed with termites.
The long and jaded corridors; rotten with life – suicidal, each plea filled with desperation.
As he lays, lying flat on the soulless floor – they crawl around him, slowly, without evident movements and suddenly like an ambushed and tireless troop – helpless and withered, with no hope in sight.
A piercing noise rises from his mouth like a newborn child seeking warmth and shelter.
Destitute of care, he plunges into the deep, endless ocean.
Swimming heartily in hope of rescue – a return to familiarity; a comfortable warm sea.