Dead Fly…

dead fly flies no mo
CJ Baker, CC-BY 2.0

Do not despair, this is but an experiment. A bit of flowy weavy words strung together as if to evoke some piece of poetry seen twisted and red as if the world was a pool of blood. It is also a diversion the better to defend myself with, should the time come, to justify my self and actions. I know, I know. My next post was supposed to be technical. But I can not deny the dead fly.

Its a sad day when you are supposed to meet your boss but only get to meet the non-flying dead. Yup, for some reason the gods that had called upon us and told us that they would come. And in so doing, would at last bless the earth with the touch of their feet.

I’m wrong. In fact, I’m lying. The lies riddle my brain so, and I might be addled. Befuddled, without hope or praise. They, certainly didn’t call me. It was public knowledge…

Still, it made me change my day. I was supposed to meet a new boss today. Yes! Another!

They do tend to pile up when you don’t want them. And I am a yes man so everyone’s my boss. It doesn’t mean getting tasks done is easy. It only means you answer more and get done less. But the risks are there. I writ, I talked, I’m seen by the FBI.

And what do I have to show for it? a wife, a child, a house, a car and a set of bills. All of which I got with the sweat from my brow thankyouverymuch. Yes! None of my bosses helped me with that.

I guess I’m just bitter. Bitter than anyone else I know for sure. But it don’t show coz’ that not my game man. Sooo, I use the pretty words and the shit of the spider to lash back out. And it seems with every scrape, with every grain, or block of wood I get better at it.

Some succor (I always wanted to use that word). That is all I ask of this thing, really. What else could someone want than to talk, to be known, to grapple some issues and let the clouds overcast see where he stands, and where he may die.

Death, the flickering light is dead… I miss it so. Yet, the ghost of a small lizard still keeps me company. The light’s intelligent sister, separated by a couple of metal struts and some wood derivative, glows brightly. But it has been joined by a dead fly.

Dead I say? Nay! Some lifeforce moves it still. Madly beating it’s wings. Bttzzz Bttzzz BttttZZ

It talks to me.

It says it can’t get out. There is no hope. Death will arrive soon. But will it come for me. Or the fly?

Who knows?