Fly hits window
Hit window again
my mind to the sound of white noise
Like the static of the large 90s television
I’d fall asleep to waiting for my dad to
get home from work.
Fly lands on the banana peel on my nightstand
Craving my midnight craving.
Fly likes her fruits a little rotten,
Passionately tasting the browned peel with her proboscis.
I go on a lot of dates with strangers
Rotten fruits smell sweeter
Rotten fruits have a deceivingly adorable
with a kitten in a Christmas sweater
I’m not naïve;
I can smell bull-shit from a mile away,
But I still end up submerged in it.
Old habits die hard.
Fly has her heart broken and deletes her tinder app,
But keeps her account.
Fly hangs around depraved and dangerous crowds
And feeds on the attention she gets from spiders
With stale personalities;
Their cravings make her feel wanted, desired, worthy.
My mom says I’m wasting my life on things
That don’t matter
That don’t matter.
But Fly remembers you only live one
Week, better make it count.
I look at my bruises and wonder if I’m
past my prime at 16.
I am a regular solicitor of dejected soliloquies on
My twitter feed.
Fly hits window,
Hits window again,