Creep Gargle

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leep is fitful and only possible after the fatigue of steady shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It senses like my figure has been caked in blows - the rocks are bruising me. Its getting colder. The sun is lower; It bars thru a window and illuminates the details of what hovers above me. I am one of those web corded carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squelches commence -- shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence -- regularly diving at me and bombing me with their droppings. The aroma gets bigger fouler by the day; my toilet is my bed. In the embarking he would come and stand over me; staring, pissing, frolicking with himself. Today, when he brought me the slop, he was wearing a gas mask. The everyday chores of the lands are much more interesting as I permit my mind to roam to that creature entombed in my barn. It is less distracting of late because of the stink, and I now must face the task of cleaning it. I have prepped a platform based on the designs I have seen at the county fair; A grooming table that holds her wrist and ankles so she is on all fours. For days I have been content with just knowing that it was stored there. To compensate and motivate the chore of cleaning it, I want to take it to another level.