Every season the flies end up inside
Come late autumn
Clutching to curtain strings
To warm ceilings
Their wings twitch
Their movements slow
They are not the those annoying objects you once knew
They can be picked up and almost coddled
They move around a bit out of habit and return
To regain comfort
Sometimes a warm front rolls through
And they pound against the window once again
Then it gets cold
The process starts over
They don't search for help
Or seem to understand what biological process
Brought them there
They just seem to know the warmth of the sun

I remember hearing about it on the radio, two people living in squalid conditions. The health inspector saying it was the worst case they had seen in some three hundred cases. Rats, maggots, it was all there. The two men suffering from diabetes, fungal infection and other maladies, right in Chicago. They worked for a company that was housing them in this environment, and paying them less than a hundred dollars a month.

When asked why did they live that long in those conditions in the 'land of the free', they said, and I am paraphrasing, 'we just didn't know there was a better option'. I think of this when stress is every where and my hatred of multitasking reaches full pitch. What about that grass that is greener? I guess it is there for a reason.

The 'News' manifests its reality
Upon our reality
He sat a little uncomfortable
As I challenged his notion
Of the world
By my own News
It is harder to shake
When it seizes
The fork from which you eat

I am that song you hum
Before you realize that it was secretly
About killing baby pandas
Or something

I am the tweet that was tweeted
Before anyone questioned
The validity
Of its existence

I am the club you go to
To hear the enlightened thoughts
Of your loved ones
Shouted at decibels
That make dogs bark

Jason bought cases upon cases
Of 'age-less' body lotions

Not knowing
That some day

The rest of his body would be
shriveled and gray

Except his-

Thousands of years ago
The Sahara desert
Wasn't a desert at all
But a swampy wetland

Then a drought to end all droughts came
Humans accustomed to water
Fish and other sources of food
Had to look harder

Humans
Huddled in caves
Watching the world dry out

They had a choice
Get moving

Or wait it out

She was a pastor
She was pregnant

And she snapped
At me

Flailing my eyes wildly
Not sure if she was joking
Forcing a double take

My toothpaste
Is trying to grow back the enamel
Of my sink

The Egyptians thought that Pharaohs
When they died and placed in their tombs
Would break free and climb through a various series of tests
And live eternally

They also thought that a person's personality
Was entirely different
From their body
Or even their soul
No one could ever take that away from you

In 'real' life Shakespeare was a criminal
Named Borgue
who hoarded grain
and cut off fingers

while writing eloquent
soliloquies on his balcony

then throwing an apple
at Phillipe
so he moves a little faster
plowing next season's crop