Let the fruit flies eat their meat
The larvae squirm in vermin flesh
Pupa in the gut rooting for blood
The flies have got unity. They got movement.
Futile humans with words but not communication
On us they will feed deep in our eyes, ears, nose, and throat.
What is the value in senses if not used for union?
I am lonely as I write these words, and the fruit flies swarm a rotting orange just inches away from my face.
They are waiting for ultimate human weakness when the fly oversoul decides to take over and attack. SWARM --- SWARM ---
[But fruit flies don’t eat meat]… Not yet,
It watches with million-eyes to see the fruits of our species, our actions, slump to that of the rotting citrus with spoiled juice pressed down running over. The sweet vulnerability of decomposition so enticing to a young and vibrant fruit fly.
Dangerous free will.
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