The wall crawls with stuff
I don’t want to recognize.
Looking obliquely, the movement
reveals insects, each one connected
to some choking childhood terror.
I watch them through the sheetrock.
Thousands of antennae, millions of legs,
with an occasional slither.
As soon as identity is imminent
I crash through the door to the yard,
leaving house structure behind.
Outside, bugs offer sympathy.
(top: bit.ly; bottom: flickrhivemind.net)