Sick Fly

I look at these people-
All these wonderful, dreadful souls
As they swim the earth over
Talking, and I am but a sick fly
Worrying about them, here on my wall
Living only a short verse in their long life-

I look at these disgusting yet beautiful people-
Their bland tastes, their exaggerated emotions
Their fear growing on their communal bleeding heart
Their eyes, those precious eyes-crying, shutting, opening-but never enough
I pray for their journey through life
Their love, their careers, their world
I live in their world-
Their sick, depressed, dark, sexually deprived world
Where I can pray at their graves,
For answers and advice

But I can't hear the murmurs, from those pretty voices
Their voices are ghosts escaping lovely, poisonous bodies
Fleeing to the sun, to hide behind its glare
I love these curious people
And they don't care...