Whenever a fly lands on me, I feel like a corpse

I stare down at my deathly white legs and I squint

I see maggots and various other teeny creatures living out their remote, alien lives in my calves, poking their little heads out of my flesh every now and then

My skin unzips and baby centipedes begin to tumble out willy nilly

Gnats invade my nose to nibble on my tasty brain

I begin to think gnat thoughts

I sneeze and my brain shudders, convulses, and violently contracts as the sneeze-juices and sneeze-jellies I've stored in there are quickly evacuated through all of my head's orifices

The gnats are swept out in the torrent of rushing air and jellies and juices, thousands becoming encased along the way in my thick and viscous cranial liquids, destined to become fossilized in their final moments of agony like ancient denizens of Pompeii; the lucky few that manage to make it out intact coalesce and act out several obscene gestures in the air immediately in front of my face

I can vaguely hear "fuck you" repeated over and over again in their whining buzz

They densely swarm around the fly on my cheek, encasing it from every angle, and proceed to spirit the poor creature, quietly shrieking a tiny fly shriek, away to wherever gnats do whatever gnats do to their prisoners

The centipedes begin to hum a mournful dirge, paying tribute to the creature that allowed them to finally penetrate my skin and breathe in the thin, dry air of the world outside of my insides