building cancer blood
The cat threw up on the wall. The walls contain cancer. The building itself is sick. The walls, the floors, the ceiling.
The bricks and the concrete. The building is rotting away from the inside out.
I sit in the dark basement with one of my boots resting in a puddle. Water drips down from some unseen crack.
It stinks down here. All I can smell is mold and rotting vegetables.
I’m wrapping my knuckles with duct tape to try to stop the bleeding.