So, I'm alone
again.
Nothing but the marching mayflies to
keep me company.
I've found a new habit;
I pull the wings from
a flies twitching body,
make a mockery of their
name.
Then,
with a sigh
-
always a sigh
-
I push them,
over the edge.
And those flies,
in their last, silent, buzzing screams,
Feel more like me then
anyone.
