Black Fly

How selective is the black fly in who he chooses to lite upon?
Does he flit from head to head
sniffing for the scent that gets his blood lust raging?
When he catches that scent
attaches and starts to suck the life essence from the host
how long before he moves on?
Is it natures who writes the rules
marks the hours
and forces separation
Or is it his own gluttony
sucking, sucking, never satiated
devouring worlds without thought of consequence
like a dog
swallowing till bursting
intoxicated
drunk on secrets no one else will ever know
death in the ecstasy of revelation.






Comments

Brian Miller said…
oy...rather nasty bit this fly....the not knowng when to stop sucking til it kills itself out...makes for a fine metaphor tash...
This builds beautifully - if this isn't a metaphor for gluttonous overconsumption in all forms, I'll eat my hat. Nope, wait, I already ate that. I'll eat my socks. Wonderful poem.

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