The waiting room was quiet
beside the faint click of the blinds
against an open window

A single dead fly on the table
on his back
with his legs pointing up

This death did not bother the models in the posters
As they smiled with bright white teeth from the wall
like they knew some great secret
that pale in comparison to the dead fly

I looked away from the poster and to the fly.
I began to wonder how the fly left this mortal coil.
peacefully or violently?

I theorized, cause I was in the mood,
that it was peaceful cause he had no obvious trauma to the body
But what do I know of a fly's anatomy?

Maybe his little heart just gave up
maybe he lost his way and then lost hope too

He tried to stay busy
buzzing away
but it was an act
trying to distract himself from the pain

He couldn't keep it up forever
his heart was too tired
and he deserved a rest
he had been through enough

So he stopped flying one day
and with one last sad beat
his heart just stopped

That what I theorized
My theory on the matter
I'll never know how the fly died
But that's what happens when the heart just stop
and it's not violent
it's peaceful

Everyday I go the same way
I don't sway far from the footpath
Cause I'm afraid to be led astray
I don't need to do the maths
to know I'm not a psychopath in this thinking
but I do have an inkling
that maybe I am sociopath
because I go the same way everyday
just to stay sane.
It's hard to explain
this disdain for anything different
to the stinking mundane that is my life.
I desperately try to sustain it by going out of my way to contain and control everything to obtain order.
So there is nothing new
Everything here the same.
like some sort of lame game
that's to blame because
I'm ashamed to say
that I'm addicted to it.
A convict in my own brain
Beginning ****** battles
Bish! Bash! Bosh!
Trying to be evicted
cause I'm conflicted
I resent being restricted
but I'm twisted
and wouldn't know
what to do if I got out
it's not just mere
bout with self doubt
about being scared
from swaying from the footpaths
No it's not being scared
it's about disappointment
I'm too acquainted
with my own containment
Of the same
that if I was to compare
my way to another
I'd be full of despair
I'm not prepared
to juxtapose anything
But I suppose that's normal
it's not insane thinking.
This inkling I've had is humane,
human nature.
so I proposed that
the only way to change
and end my affliction
is to expose myself to the abnormal
without being so formal.
The simple act stepping outside out of my comfort zone
away from the dull drone
is the start
with a little effort
I can look at life
through my rose-tinted glasses
La vie en rose!
engross with all things new
everything that is composed
of this Earth,
is now worth so much to me
I'm no longer afraid to compare
I loudly and proudly proclaim
that I do not take the same way
everyday
sometimes I sway from the mundane
cause I've ordained my self as a free man.
brand new me, who's not scared to see or be or even peruse the new.
This pure philosophy is the cure and is now imbued in my soul.
So on that overdue cue,
I bid you adieu

I drink in the sweet light
Of the honey coloured moon
as it floats high at midnight
hoping it doesn't leave soon

As I stare at the full moon
The world falls away
and I lose my peripheral vision
bathing in the moon's rays

Sliver beams of light
That reflects off the ocean
And seem to be too bright
to be moonshine

I began to see now
understand how
myths and legends
of the moon began

Egyptian, Aztec, Celtic and Greek
Khonsu, Metzli, Elatha and Artemis
And even poor Starveling
with his dog and thorn bush

All trying to capture the raw beauty
that is the moon and it's light
The rarest jewel of them all
Shining bright through out the night

But all attempts of personification
contain to much complication
to represent
to simplicity of the moon

So I'll stop trying to convey
what I can see
because no matter what I say
will not match what floats above the sea