Decay

It's all about decay, from the teeth in your head to your childhood bed and how he used to look at you that way, looks that too soon turned to pity, Here kitty kitty come sit on my lap, veins like a map, listen for the nocturnal intruder scratching like a rat, we hear him, me and the cat, we imagine him chewing on the insulation of the wires, envision the resulting fire, and shudder at the thought of dying that way, our nerves fray the cat's claws pierce our paper-thin skin, its protective barrier breaking down and we look around at the room choked with a lifetime's keepsakes and wonder what difference it makes and whether our passing will even be noted, a life devoted to idiotic mistakes, for God's sake, let somebody notice before my body's become bloated, let them come feed the cat, he has been such a comfort as he cocks his ear once more to the scratching at the door, our mysterious guest, who affords us no rest, my hands shake with fear and dismay, because in the end, it's all about decay.