...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSv04ylc6To

A glass of warm whiskey is the best fly trap.


They flock to it.

They drown themselves in droves and calcify onto the sugar coated walls of the glass' edge.


As I stare and fend them off from the lips of my bottle,

As I exhume the stragglers and as I light a carcinogenic deterrent,

An incense cloud for the mass suicide,

I can't help but compare myself to the flies. 

I can't help but picture angel's wings on the backs of scabbed junkies 

And muzzled pitbulls being led in packs by the hand of their equally as scabby dealer.


I drink again thinking about this and top off the fly tomb, 

Contemplating the victory in such a painful death.