Stray flesh blues

Carlos was tired to say the least

He had always been tired, tired ever since the rich folk from uptown started metaphorically shitting on folk like him since the economic collapses and the atomized exchanges, tired ever since he could not get a job, tired ever since his mom forced him and his siblings to join that damned and ever so vague public experimentation program, ever since they did...whatever screwed up experiments they did to make him look like the most fucked up ragged up doll baby the world had ever seen

But this..was a new kind of tired.

The annoucement screens stopped giving new news, forever stuck on that one sickly  positive 'thank you for contribuiting for genetic Science!" Green screen.

And the door was unlocked

"Uh.." they said, his voice sounding surprisingly young yet raspy even for themselves, they took a surprisingly hard to do breath, looked at his sligtly redish hand (or should they call it a stub?) With a single small mushroom atop of it

It had become routine ever since he had woken up like the way he has, when they found something to be too overwhelming or simply found themselves with anxiety they would look at that mushroom, that one single filled with little dimple like black points mushroom growing out of the cracks inbeetwen his ever stained red skin, and maybe..

maybe that was just the way the brown and black would contrast with the red and rubber like tone of his skin or something else..but.. that one mushroom would always confort him.

And it did that time without fail

"It is ok my man" andre imagined the mushroom saying "everything is fine now! You can go home! Maybe find your other relatives and your litlle mommy, finnaly run away from that shitty closet apartment and start a good life in a campy little cabin!..Yeah that is possible!" He found these words, whatever imagined coming out of a lump piece of plant it may be, conforting