My half-brother’s snoring body leaks Guinness fumes.
Keep turning to the antique knife on my nightstand.
The man and girlfriend upstairs argue. A kitten whines outside my front door. Inside it, on the trim casing, a little black spider eats a fly—silent.
Snoring. It’s just the two of us. My income only the last two months. Jobs are hard to come by, he says.
Mom and Dad can’t help anymore. Cancer, heart attack. The sun and food here kills everyone.
I don’t drink. I can’t. Won’t. Hate it.
The goddamn snoring. Wide awake.