time flies as we age
seeing how when you were 2,
1 year is about half of your life,
but seeing as now you you are 17,
one year is minuscule.
and oh darling,
this frightens me how i could lose you,
but of course you don't seem to notice,
how the time flies
you were only ever temporary to me
in the span of my time

cringing every time they hear my name
as if i am the one to fear.
legless, mindless, callow worms
but we are just children, waiting here
in this stinking wound for our day to
Fly.

when we are older we will grow wings
of intricate cellophane
and leave this festering place.
our six barbed legs to spread disease
were given instead of a heart or brain.

i happened upon a peculiar, bitter soul
she hated me, i knew, but the taste of her skin
was warm and chemical sweet and i
       couldn't resist her.
seven million times larger than i
she was a dangerous plaything.

i watched her cut my brothers down,
out of the air like a frenzied cat, a crazed look
flashing in eyes; she screamed
ad despite my lack of heart and pain
i am sad to think they will never again
Fly.

Lazy summer afternoon,
Screened in porch and nothin' to do,
I just kicked off my tennis shoe.
Slouchin' in a plastic chair,
Rakin' my fingers through my hair.
I close my eyes and I leave them there,
And I yawn, and sigh, and slowly fade away

Awakened by a familiar sound,
A clumsy fly is buzzin' around,
He bumps the screen and he tumbles down.
He gathers about his wits and pride,
And tries again for the hundredth time,  
'Cause freedom calls from the other side,
And I smile and nod, and slowly drift away

Another sound chimes through my ear,
A robin singing with his peer,
A simple song that just so dear.
They find a tree so they can rest,
And then begin to build a nest,
One to suit their babies best.
And I grin in awe and slowly drift away

A grown child falls a young child flies,
a gray man huffs and rolls his eyes

a smiling nurse in all white sighs

a hand flings up to answer tries
a spoken comment was not wise
a star is given as a prize

envy consumes all the lies
a mother buckles down and cries,

some mental fuse is blown and fries
as masks are raised to form disguise

to mute the sound as laughter dies

Lock jawed.
Cuz when it rains it ******* pours.
Sleeping in dead fruit flies.
Choking on bug spray that killed said flies.
I need a job.


Praying for a god ****** miracle.

It is September and my personal fruit fly has returned
From his long vacation,
And is happily perched on the rim of my wine glass
Polity hopping off whenever I reach for a sip,
Quietly resuming his place when I set down my glass.

I can hardly resent his microscopic intrusion
Especially when I find that he and a partner have ended
Their wandering keratinous lives
And are now jointly denting the meniscus of my economy class Chardonnay.