There is a house. It is bright, open, beautiful.
Then the storm comes. The windows are closed. Shutters drawn. The house closes. It is dark.
I go up to bed. Climb in, lay head down on ice pack, blankets pulled to chin, eyes covered...I bury myself deep, six feet under.
The worms crawl, maggots eat, flies buzz.
Death lives.
Nov.16, 2011
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