Candid Corvid Productions

“If one is dying quicker, well, that’s a scary feat…

But, meanwhile, the stomach hungers as the mind bckons for more sleep – even as cells ache.

Is there anything safe to invest in?

Can anything – including perceptions – be trusted?”

“I am being pushed to move too soon.”

“Literally.”

“That my new housing has offered a positive haven.”

She had to continue rearranging internally as she fragmented into disociation as could feel chest compartments shifting in order to keep enduring toxicity inundation.

“That’s just it, then?

It’s the waiting…

And the craving…

And the stretching too thin?

“But instead came home to the house still reeking of dog urine.

How?

Why?

Where?

Who and What already having been determined.

Turns out that the lining under the couch has been sagging, so this absorbed much of – as well as hid – more older large pools that had traveled and gathered under.

Thus results another hour or so of dedicated labor to cutting out the lining, mopping, and remopping over the area and onto any tracking I’ve created while managing.

And I find myself realizing, “I just can’t do this anymore…”

“As I woke up around twelve pm to another round of the cat yowling on my one day “off” there was no way for me to get dressed in time to get the wolf out, so she peed again in large puddles that ran into and under furniture.

Which means a whole ‘nuther effort-layered, careful mopping venture while I have her tied to the front door, out of the way, eating breakfast as I navigate – and I’m sitting paused and writing in the kitchen, noticing pain in my cells from carrying overload as further fume toxins pour in around me from the sink walls because I need to have the air filter turned on.”

“I should have gotten boxes for sorting and thinning out items – but they were to expensive, and would have absorbed more of the smoke fumes smell.”