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Flies

Buzzing. The fluorescent light is buzz, buzz, buzzing, the way you hear an electrical cabinet buzz. As you watch the blue, flickering light, flies gather around. Their thin, transparent wings create their own buzzing noise.

What they don’t know, what they can’t see, is what flows inside the thin net of metal wire surrounding the flickering blue.

One by one, the flies gather under the light. Buzzing.
One by one, the flies gather, closer. Buzzing.
One by one, the flies sparkle, burn and die. Buzzing.
One touch, and the flies die. Buzzing.

If you’re close enough, you can see the wings burn, the legs fall off and the eyes burst.
If you’re close enough, you can hear the inside melt, hear it boil.
If you’re close enough, you can feel the smell.

Not the smell of burnt flesh and fat, reaching the sniff, sniff, sniffing noses of the spectators after an Electric Chair-BBQ. No, this is different. Picture yourself sitting in a comfortable arm chair. Or a sofa. You've had it for years, the fabric has lost it's luster, bleached, torn in places where your fingers couldn't help themselves, stained. Your favorite. Picture yourself sitting there, your eyes reflecting a blink, blink, blinking. What time is it?, you wonder. Before your eyes can reach the watch around your overfed wrist, your lips stretch the skin around your mouth, painting your face with a grin. Yes, the smell of dinner reaches your sniffing nose from the kitchen. Relaxing your body against the soft backrest, your eyes and thoughts wander back towards the at times, but constantly changing, bright source of light and noise. Watching the flick, flick, flickering screen of the TV, your grin turns into a laugh.

That’s the feeling you get.

The blinking in your eyes, a reflection of a reflection of yourself.

Watching yourself being watched by yourself, you can’t help but laugh. The way starving dogs compete over a piece of rotten meat, the flies compete over the blue light, trying to out-buzz the other.

Sell-outs.

You just can’t help but laugh. The pathetic struggle to bathe in the blue light, their own personal competition to make the loudest buzz.

Mayflies.

The awe-inspiring struggle to bask in the buzz, your own personal competition to out-laugh yourself out-laughing yourself.

Transcendence.

And you know what? You just can’t help it. You just can’t help but fucking laugh!




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Läst 18 gånger
Publicerad 2021-01-25 10:33



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throughsenses
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