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Cooking, sipping the dew from flowers with a straw of gold, digging in the soft morning earth until I find a delicious grub, bringing pollen to the queen, fighting intruders, making mourning noises when we find the bones of our ancestors, feeding skulls to the larva in the hatching rooms, spraying super heated steam from my proboscis, growing more eyes.
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the moaning of a train in the distance, the gasping huff of middle aged divorcees finding love again in the dark and balmy hours of the night, the swatting sound of a fly being smashed, the gentle whisk of a cats tail in dust , the rattle of scales as a nameless thing ventures from beneath a child's bed, the honking of third world horns, and the sweet ding of the jackpot on progressive penny slots.
The kind that ends with you and and me enjoying a nice cup of tea and staring up at the stars.
Dictionaries that have been hollowed out and filled with orphan tears.
Gigantapithicus