The lonely moth sits perched on the shower wall
Raindrops fog up the mirror quite unconcerned
Shampoo drips and stings my watchful eyes

The lonely moth moves between my lashes onto the faucet
Scruffy loofahs exfoliating my ***** limbs fall to the side
Water pools outside the hair-clogged drain

The lonely moth flutters– gone in a trick of the mind
Hair cream coats dripping, bouncy locks of curls
A fresh towel becomes soaked and softened

Are you a spider, traipsing around your web? Like an acrobat,
you swing from fly to fly, trapping them further. Your gossamer silk
Surrounds them, confines them, suffocates them, but you, black widow,
Deliver the killing blow. Your bite is not accompanied by a bark
as you sink your fangs into your victims like a thirsty vampire.
Drain them, empty them, free them of life, dear spider.
For it is your nature, your purpose, and your divine duty to devour.
Oh, spider, I am your devotee, your destitute follower, your dying breath.
I am your last hope of redemption in this dying, this killing, this ending.
Will you be redeemed in the end? Only I, the fly, decide.

I'm in a constant reverie,
Morosely contemplating the glistening, vivid sky
that contrasts with the remnants of earth and vibrant, coloured flowers.

I turn my gaze to the sea,
Not far off, that seems to splash and crash
In sync with the swaying leaves.

I imagine if the body of water were a physical being,
It would be more powerful than I.
Every muscle, every cell, feels weak within me.
Although if I had to pick between the sea and the sky,
I would have to choose the sky.

I'd feel the wind forcibly blowing my face as I
fly with no responsibilities ahead of me.
I could finally be free from every thought,
Every 'checkpoint', individuals expect me to achieve.

Since it's not possible, I decide to feel the thrill at least
Instead, by jumping off this obscure building,
where Mother Nature is fighting to take over.

But as my feet leave the ground,
I realise, no fall will truly free me
Maybe freedom is found within.

Pretty birds in a cage
Little birds in a rage
Red, yellow, green and blue
All bonded like a glue
They try, cry and weep
They fly and forget the creep
Young friends of Earth
Flightless friends from birth
Wish they were never born
Until they eat sweet corn

There is not one
Which I have not rewarded,
One I have not punished.
From Cyrus To Moses
And each of their children,
That is their nations.
From Rome to Germany
And their siblings,
That is their family.
You stand with your tribe
And you stand against the species.

Today eve is different
Spring makes me overwhelmed.
Sunset is painting the sky with coral red
Clouds giving touch up with heart shape
Some broken, some full
Overcome the past, present to rule.
A sweet, cold breeze runs through me
Taking away all my worry
Fun and joy, want again to be tension-free boy
A new start, this is the life to enjoy.
Embrace the flaw, the moon smiles
The world is mine, and I am free to fly.

On the windowsill, all flailing
Legs and desperation—
At times, it attempts to fly
Away, but soon enough it gives
That up as if to say,
“I can’t.”

The movements get smaller and
Slower, but occasionally there are bouts
Of hysteria
(𝙒𝙃𝙔 𝙈𝙀)
Until eventually nothing is left but a
Feeble twitch and really the question
That you should be asking is:
“Is it still alive?”

It is still alive.

It is still alive but it is tired.

Slowly…
Slowly…
Slowly…