By Sir TemplingBalm SkuzzBernap the thirs (with an s)
The first thing I notice, is the symphonic sound of dissonant buzzing, and the stench of putrefaction, and vile, and sick—I hold my breath. My peepers open to an infinite nothingness- a void of homesick and darkness. My ankles, deep, in a thick muck. I feel flies: weaving between leg hairs, up my knees, before flying the fuck off to join their innumerable kin. I step. and the muck, not wanting to part with my leg elbows, lets loose a sickening sucking sound. Suddenly, my balance is Gone! and I slip into the shit. My patellas hit first; slippy sliding as my palms knock, and my chest just, smack —into the sewage. Squishing the lining of flies on the feces, creepy crawling and gankin’ the wind that just got knocked out of me. I gasp for air, and the buzz cloud finds it’s way into my mouth. Just Humming wings on my cheeks, I screech, moving my tongue up and down, I get lightheaded, my stomach knots up, I wretch, and I gag, and I scream—emitting only faint, pained, whimpers.
Staggering through darkness, my body bombarded, my neck and arms coated with wings, and legs and wormy proboscises. Fighting back the gags I hold my breath and wade, thigh high, through defecation. Flies crawl threw my nose, And I’m just struggling to walk. I’m up to my waist Human waste and deepening, I sink—until its up to my navel. and can’t move my legs. I scream until my chest aches. But the only narrow boat in my ear canal is Fucking Buzzing.