Vespine

I scream. The kind of scream that bellows and pans out and out and out over the world and spans the universe. 


I look down. The tip of my pinkie throbs and balloons up, looking like a fat purple gumdrop. 

I feel revolted at the thought of the wasp stinger which has just been lodged deep in my flesh. I am poisoned by venom and memory.

I begin to wheeze and awkwardly crash to the cement, which is cooking in the sun and burns my legs. I see my grape gumdrop is joined by small strawberry gumdrops, little pink candies, spreading over my hands and arms. 

I look up and see sky. Soft white, baby blue, black.

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