A husk of hope

A husk of hope on a window sill With the apricot light bleeding in…. That thing you called a fly had feelings… Had wings that you could never grow now… Their magnificent dreams are suspended in motion… A plane that never has to land… But you - you have to face their luminous breathing - this breathing you thought you could switch off with the notch of your bedside lamp… You must face the apricot blood so bright and butterscotch it burns through you… And as you squash this obstacle for the bin to remove it from your sight; it’s dreams won’t perish - they will scatter out into space carrying their truth to distant planets… But you - you will stay here, stranded… And though you may wish it - spiders won’t side with you over your so-called enemy… They will catch you and ravage you - tear you to pieces, dig their fangs into your dreams and wrap you in freezing shawls of guilt - Until you finally surrender - a clone-roach that never really knew the meaning for its painted circus orders, but; somewhat predictably, followed them regardless…

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