Be a fly

Be a fly

that’ll suck you dry

biting and nipping

and straight blood sipping

Be a fly

that’ll consume an eye

with no focused stare

just wear, wear, wear

Be a fly

that’ll try to fry

the food you’ve leftover

to breed a sweet odor

Be a fly

until you die

so you can hack it

into a wiggly, fat maggot

that makes more you

who flew and flew and flew

*

I’m told that

there’s a little bit

of star in us

but it must be the dead, flaky giblets

that never made much

of a light

for we don’t

even when enlightened

with the philosophy of warmth

that gasoline for a blanket

and a match for a tongue

can spark