Pests

Buzz, world of flies drawn to garbage of lies and they drone

Sticky as syrup on fingers, annoyance lingers, each moment numbers grown

Crawling black dots raise, on legs, nose and eyes, sitting on a fleshy throne

Flies, mouths with wings, hunger their demise, they moan

Crawling over skin, not caring where they've been, wind blown

From ash to trash, basket to casket they've flown 

Out I lash, I thrash, I bash, I smash, yet all of me they've known

With the tone of their drone I groan and moan, for my sins I atone

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Yes, skin crawling, loathsome, persistent little blighters. You’ve got some amazing description here Soren and bring strong feelings of disgust to your readers. You paint ugly so well. Fine writing.

Chris

[Soren]

Thank you Chris I appreciate your read and comment yew if only there were one type of flies in this world.

[Thomas W Case]

This swarms in your brain like it swarms on the page—ugly, relentless, and alive.
I felt the grit and the itch; your words make the disgust visceral and strangely mesmerizing.

[Soren]

Thanks so much Thomas from the king of such gritty writing I take that as a valued compliment my friend