Crack-before-dawn: 5am.
‘’The Spiders are competing with you, my dear.’’
“I know.”
…

I: trailblazer in calm-down-the-dragon long sleeve
And olympic swimmer shorts [thrifted.rehomed/.] from a mons
Of no accounting for how many tentacles it takes to make an octopus tapa kebab.

The spiders are shrewing me for repping their sets [the Crabs. {why are you afraid of salty air and don’t wanna get hard with all that hair???}] and creating many a meme holding legendary -card-select-weapon indeed.
Microphone verse.
The Spiders stare at me often. [It was on a web while I administered Homeostasis-esque activity while perusing scroll on my phone o’ throne-time usage for a treat to take my time.] [this morning/ after-the-fact.]

Knees imprinted with elbow-red-retainer as a prop
For cellular device.
“‘I’m so fucking scared, right now.’”
And then I look up after imposterous display of a Danced by Grand-Granddaddy of the Long Legs [on a fucking web from the Cieling and tapped my glasses’s lens with 3 limbs like Canon in D (Spiders’ favorite song ever…) . o h god I’m horrified, I can’t take much more shame-in-life.]
After venturous prose and the end of nature’s night-time drift, indeed.

They too, wanted to steal my shirt.

While my mind whirled on an array o breakfast meals and meats.
When i decided to be quick and get the coffee started
And propose grease-bread from air-fryer accord.
Potatoes or spiced ham I felt all confused.
Have I worked hard enough to push myself to make eggs.too?

I have no idea.

Then in my site.
The prop 8inches before the realm to stand
To change the coffee and venture forth towards the closet.
Pantry-fold.

And I turned back with creeping willies and utter-shocks at the whisper of wind’s embrace and dust’s touch..
The tarantula of steel-eye came for a visit.

Round the Corner of the Surburban-Spider-Homes.
Where the Grandfather of Tarantula Kind helps the Palmetto Bugs
Tailor their suit, just fine.

The Quick Meal was supposed to be frozen air-fryed Okonomiyaki with kewpie mayo drizzle and scallion, with hopeful notion to be able to find the scissors {kitchen, type.}

I suppose all bets are off the table.

Thai Coffe3 3-in-1 and there is no creamer and I drank the milk
For 3cookie stumble.
Ahoy – I just wanna cook some fucking food with an insect audience marveling at my clothes.
Or the 9th billion hairstyle I’ve worn today.

The insects wander because they linger near the scent of my hygiene products. {in the bathroom.}

Terror indeed, at least they mostly give me privacies.

I suppose hi-jinks and pranks are all that’s left for
Unc-vover the dust Summer,
Coming to an end. Soon.

[Hopefully + Thankfully: Winter is my Favorite Season.] {No bugs.}

ps. It Happened… Creative Nonfiction (fucking anxiety at the world before me that isn’t even of the Human Landscape but we be living with their numbers – not the other way around. AROOF>) (with the OTH headphones on, woof. I pop em on the left side in case something sneaks up on me, I wasn’t expecting it to be a Spider. From the ceiling.) {I’m horrified. I still haven’t shaken fun+games playploydice.} (bye. It’s Sam and I’m horrified.)

Pss. I wanted it to be special if I had okonomiyaki and warm up some frozen edamame, but alas.
I have to cook full breakfast after 6:21am.
Then it feels like get-up-to-turn-on-the-news nostalgia when I was in school.

Now Playing: Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood by The Animals