Welcome home to the nuclear waste dump

last night i fought off eight large flies at the bottom of the dungeon, my so called apartment, 666 waste house drive no doubt, where the filth has become so acquiesced that i image dirty rotten bums should start drifting towards my glass door soon. i need to move SO bad but its even sadder why i mustn't or still that i can't. The abattoir, my home, my dirty bathroom, my soiled spotted dogged carpet, at the bottom of the barrel where only i can dwell, my hell, my abode, my stunning little space filled with so much nuclear waste, my dump of a life to compliment it. Well hell, at least i should write about it to give to the world to dice up and give back to me as an entree of how they'd handle the situation. My apartment looks like a butcher has mistaken it for the slaughterhouse that it is but the dead only bleed clothes, plates, rats, roaches, flies, and parts of my imagination overwhelmed by this nuclear reactor in my eyesight that captures it all and encapsulates it, devours it, then showers it back onto the nuclear waste dump that is this life some times.., yes, yes, yes, my dear, your are welcomed....