The rains came and outside my window the steam overtook the world.
As the steam disperses, I can see the dead out on the street staring with their hungry eyes. In my chair, the water rises covering my boots. My Mother waifs through the water from to room dusting the burnt furniture.
I wait for the inevitable.
It's a happy home. Three naked women lay on my bed having my babies, the umbilical cord keeping them together as sisters. They grit their teeth, foaming at the mouth, rabid in their love.
In the dining room a man in a black tuxedo play piano rolls on a Steinway. His monkey performs voodoo on the Priest giving me my last rites. The Priest found a match finally, but the candle will not light.
So I lift my shirt, black throbbing sores whisper to me their hopes and dreams. The dead have finally entered my house, crawling through the flooded floors to feed from my sores, the sickness controlling their small minds while everyone bear witness to the coming dawn.
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