A fight no one has ever asked for

I, armed with size, strength, and a Toni Morrison book

They, with speed, an irritating buzz,

And an exoskeleton which makes a horrible, guilt-wrenching


Their deaths will bring no joy to one

Already weary from the long day

Struggling to support the weight of their own impending


But transgressions cannot be ignored

The incessant buzzing and banging

Into the ceiling light, my light

Marring mine and its luminescence

The revolting, clustered breeding

In the ceiling corner, which leaves them

Lethargic, and bloated

The spryness of others, the inertia of these

Which is worse,

even my nightmares cannot tell.

The rain of blows fills the house

As flakes of ceiling and carcass fall

To floor and bed

Some are evasive, others not

Just as much variance between

Those who do and don't stick where they are


Pages of the book

Forever stained with their life

No longer returnable, I'm sure

The spree is soon over

I, alone again

Am the only soul present to acknowledge

How the slaughter would not hang so heavy

Were it not now so maddeningly, agonizingly