The Walls Bleed with Termites (vol. 2)

by Michael King

(Side B)

Empty.
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.

Yelping.
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.

 

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