cryptid in july poetry day 10, the mongolian death worm


a poem about the mongolian death worm

“what is the difference between being a worm who is accepting of loneliness 

and being an independent worm” 

the mongolian death worm thought 

laying on a bare twin-sized mattress 

set directly on the floor 

40 feet underground

it ate maybe 5mg of adderall

and moved its bed to look for it’s missing e-cigarette

it leaves its burrow to smoke a cigarette

it wishes its entire life’s purpose was to watch cooking shows all day

outside the burrow there stands a man

“I’ve come for you death worm!” the man says

he has a trident, a large heavy-duty garbage bag, and a shop-vac

“this is making me nervous”

“I’m going to kill you”

“you’re ruining my night”

“soon you’ll be dead, I’m serious, I’ve sworn to kill your kind”

“you’re a racist”

“I'm not racist”

“you are killing worms for being worms, that is racism”

“no it isn't, you’re all monsters”

“that’s racial stereotyping”

“hey asshole, I'm a human, I'm better than you”

“you’re a fucking racist”

“your days are done”

“my days are fucking awesome”

the mongollian death worm pulls out a gun and shoots the man in the belly

he falls to his knees

using the trident to hold himself up slightly

“you shot me asshole, that’s unfair, you used a gun, you’re supposed to use your venom”

“soon you’ll be dead, and I'll eat your eyes and crawl through your brain”

the man throws the trident at the death worm but misses and collapses 

the death worm puts the man inside the large heavy-duty garbage bag

takes the shop-vac and puts the tube in the garbage bag and turns it on

it watches the bag curve around the man’s hands and mouth

it pulls out its phone and records the sounds of the man suffocating

it will listen to the recording at night when it’s alone and crying in bed

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