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Millions of Flies


Millions of flies
Spring out of my cupboards
Leaping out of their vile, black, moist, sticky home

Invading my mouth
I swallow them whole
Jaws pried open

Marching multitude of feet
En route to plant their
Lecherous seed in my guts

I fall under their weight
Smelling their crap
The constant mechanical hum
of a diswasher
My funeral dirge

...

So it's a bit odd really. I'm happier than I've ever been. Got a lovely man, got a good career, got an idea of what I want out of life. But there's always problems - because of things I set in motion ages ago, I've gotta leave it all. Question is, do I promise to come back? Is it possible to promise something that you will do in a year's time? What if I go away, saying I won't come back and everything where I'm going is totally rubbish? What If I say I'll come back and I love my new life? (pretty ...

I confess

I love that
which caressess
me. I believe

Love has his
share in the
Sun's brilliance
and virtue

Autumn is my favorite time of year. I know spring is rebirth and summer is fun and all that, but autumn brings so many wonderful memories to my mind. Cotton in the fields,tractors and cotton pickers running at all hours, the smell of the cotton, cotton gins running all night, train whistles in the far distance, and beautiful sunsets as I would walk home by the shortcut through the alley from town. And the trees. Where I grew up, there aren’t a lot of trees. Most of them have been cut down to plant ...

Actually, that is a lie, with the help of others I have found her. I discovered with the help of my friends (thanks for the help by the way) on here and at my house that my teacher spelled both her first and last name wrong. It is not Francis Trollop (who doesn't exist) but actually Frances Trollope a well-known author. So, yay, now I can research in peace.