Abryanna Reeder: Penicillium, Gray, Wood Mold
Left alone sitting at home | thin strands of hair make their way | white, brown spheres in range |
maybe I’ll eat some cheese. | colonization has taken over in the debris | I’ve taken on water |
A storehouse where you can find me | A new ecosystem emerging in a void | Laid waste to your precious heirlooms |
my bulbous sprouts grow reaching for thee | Survival by means of gluttony | I am gathering my bodily film |
silently waiting for the release. | gray matured, maybe decayed | aggressive walls put up to break down, |
fermentation or an infection. | A notable host is my pray | rapidly spreading to absorb |
storing for the explosion to consume. | Under a canopy we meet | the site deprived, pure white |
spreading a new youthful glow. | Wounds opened in a lattice abyss | frenzied disaggregation |
yet purification is operating | copper mist in contest, | murky drifting spores. |
Sugar used for stability | I am no longer applicable for expansion, | hard fibrous tissue |
yellow crust in a cavity | pressure for me to be exposed. | Home’s former self be gone. |
I’ve been dispensed. | Uncovered cold husk | No longer a solid structure |
Injected, circulating to ravage what I see | clustered in a siloed cage | once a haven and now my own prison. |