My mattress dries.
Light switches spark to make the only heat.
They pulled me off the streets to swat the flies that weep through screens and bleed. I should have beat my nosy neighbor till she pissed her insides out, but courts ruled that I pay her monthly fees. Instead, I tongue the crusted buns of gout that flesh the kitchen stove with rank disease and curse when nurses will not wash their hands before they wipe my ass. The norms decay in drainage clogged by pubic hairs, the sands that suicide should turn to sludge. We prey upon each other, nature grinding bones homeless in money-grubbing nursing homes.