Today I dreamt of an eyeless gardener who died half-dreaming the other half soaked in the scent of loneliness. 60 years old just to be a home for another lonely colony of ants.
My dad once told me a fairy tale that ants can live lives in your veins, and it's beautiful.
I didn't understand it then, so I just left for the store picking up some change along the way. I'd been saving up for a slush puppy, cause the couch cushions smelt like mold and I didn’t feel like asking them.
My mama cried when our dog was too old to kiss her good morning. And the vet was too expensive to afford.
Today I met a nice-looking stranger who smoked a dying dandelion, and I saw wishes float out his lips. I wish he told me that my frown hid a sunrise. But he only told me that I smell of ash and cough syrup.
I swear It was just the one time when the city-funded “residence program” was on fire, or maybe it was a couple ‘a times after.
Now sometimes the face in the mirror feels like a fantasy. I'm so afraid, and I don't believe in dying. Lonely in my colony, I roam in circles believing in the queen, but she runs me dry. Still, I don't want to smell like ash.
But, like the man who hides from the world in his castle, I killed at least 20 ants this week and like him, I feel horrible. I'm crushed under clouds of guilt. I took the time to name them all, but I didn't know any of them. I just put stickers on tiny graves, all crushed under my fingerprints, bloodied by my soul squeezing out from under ant-skin now mush.
I killed 20 ants last week, and now the face in my mirror feels like fantasy, so afraid. I want to believe that their eyes are the same as mine and I'm in them as they swim my veins. I feel them in my veins. The pain, it soars and I can almost mistake it for a song.
But I still don't believe in dying, and I killed 20 ants, I'm so afraid and I don't believe in dying, I killed 20 ants, I'm so, so afraid, and no still I don't believe in dying, but I killed 20 ants. I killed 20 ants.
But today I found a stray gull outside my shop. I named her Klip. I bet she has friends. She has a broken wing, and I’m going to heal her up and then help her find her friends.
And tomorrow I'll be able to go on, and I bet I still won't believe in dying.
So call me please, when your safe from my stench. I need help.
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