on taking alternate paths
The fungals in so many forms, taking my food, my lifeblood, opening me up to my rage, to the insulting irony that I am not here to feed you, while they take my food. Who can blame me for seeking out a little more of a direct route? One that doesn’t take me back through it, again, the multiple relationships, the over-the-top ridiculous admonition to stop feeding while I am being eaten.
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