Tea Kettle

the life was sound as it hid in corners of the mattress,
sweaty, dirty, malignant as it may not have been.
cracks up and down that spiraled towards the drywall
as dry as my mouth when it creeped up into my sinuses.
the air smelled of not a single entity, but several;
the dust protruding from my nose made for a lovely catalyst.
For all who arrive,
please supply your own loose leaf for the drywall;

please refrain from the strain you force upon us.


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