more than annoyed

this feeling is a gnat
a tiny buzzard
the inky speck
flapping in the molasses

gnat time is that
compressed fluttering
i hear in my heart

there is no escape from metaphor
common experience is not plain
stars collide, satyrs collude
stir all the cliches in the black pot
and pour them magma hot into the black kettle

nettled by a gnat
salved by it’s decomposition

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