spray and pray.
this whole ordeal makes me feel very violated. from nowhere these beasts began to draw blood while the moon was up and I was innocent in sleep. these beasts crawled the length of me, feeding on my flesh, making me pique. my wrists and ankles are pocked: breakfast. lunch. dinner.
currently, my bedroom has two fans battling the fifty dollar anoxic fumes I used to spray my mattress down from crack to crack. I have moved its contents out & am sitting with a chemical head-rush. (has nothing bio been invented to wage war against these creatures? no.) my pharmacist took one look at me and said I had to act fast; these are my first bites in the night though -lucky number seven in total- which give me mild hope. I can lick this with fifty dollar toxins and 'hot' washing everything I own, I am told. or I'll have to throw out everything. everything. trim the fat indeed.
though the only material things I am terribly distressed about maybe having to up-chuck are my deceased grandmothers vintage sheets and the quilt my mother made for me in 1999. everything else can get slashed and burned, as far as I am concerned; may as well go into another quebec year sticking to the poke n' stuck mantra on my foot, I guess. (lets all hope I wise up, though)
in the meantime, everything is swimming in a sea of toxins and wind. sheets on the line. mattress vacuumed and vacant. closet closed. clutter out. quarantined.
I still feel violated.
in speaking about this to people, I have observed many reactions which I imagine must be similar to revealing experiences of rape, infection, abortion - something that grave, but in a lighter-grey. there is an odd 'taboo' I have detected lingering in the air with the toxic fumes. a dirty association. pr-etty poverty. a socio-economic subjective position as a starving student writer who lives in the village and has 'scabies.' don't want to admit it. don't want to talk about it. want to 'nix' it & il faut que j'moove. generally, people have been kind (maybe beCAUSE it isn't rape, herpes, abortion) because 'it can happen to anyone'. hah. I just hope my labored hours of sweeping, vacuuming, spraying, dusting, meticulous examining and spraying some more has left everything remotely insect DEAD & GONE so I can get back to a normal sleep.
-- --- --- --- but tonight I dance with insomnia.
lingering in quarantine.
bonne nuit.
currently, my bedroom has two fans battling the fifty dollar anoxic fumes I used to spray my mattress down from crack to crack. I have moved its contents out & am sitting with a chemical head-rush. (has nothing bio been invented to wage war against these creatures? no.) my pharmacist took one look at me and said I had to act fast; these are my first bites in the night though -lucky number seven in total- which give me mild hope. I can lick this with fifty dollar toxins and 'hot' washing everything I own, I am told. or I'll have to throw out everything. everything. trim the fat indeed.
though the only material things I am terribly distressed about maybe having to up-chuck are my deceased grandmothers vintage sheets and the quilt my mother made for me in 1999. everything else can get slashed and burned, as far as I am concerned; may as well go into another quebec year sticking to the poke n' stuck mantra on my foot, I guess. (lets all hope I wise up, though)
in the meantime, everything is swimming in a sea of toxins and wind. sheets on the line. mattress vacuumed and vacant. closet closed. clutter out. quarantined.
I still feel violated.
in speaking about this to people, I have observed many reactions which I imagine must be similar to revealing experiences of rape, infection, abortion - something that grave, but in a lighter-grey. there is an odd 'taboo' I have detected lingering in the air with the toxic fumes. a dirty association. pr-etty poverty. a socio-economic subjective position as a starving student writer who lives in the village and has 'scabies.' don't want to admit it. don't want to talk about it. want to 'nix' it & il faut que j'moove. generally, people have been kind (maybe beCAUSE it isn't rape, herpes, abortion) because 'it can happen to anyone'. hah. I just hope my labored hours of sweeping, vacuuming, spraying, dusting, meticulous examining and spraying some more has left everything remotely insect DEAD & GONE so I can get back to a normal sleep.
-- --- --- --- but tonight I dance with insomnia.
lingering in quarantine.
bonne nuit.
posted by Loco at
8:38 PM
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