My little bot fly
I am unable to take more. My bleeding heart is spilling its contents from the hole in my chest and just as quickly those contents are being reclaimed by the earth beneath me. I seek the solace of a near by burial plot, the only thing which seems to call me to its embrace. I come to its calls, certain that my heart will never again teem with life. As I close my eyes to accept this inconvenient truth and find pleasure in its comforts, I begin to feel a small wriggling within me. It is a bot fly. It does not turn my stomach as it should but instead, brings me comfort knowing I am able to feel a presence in my heart once more.
My little bot fly. How unexpected.
For hours which feel like days, I feel it inside me. I feel it making its home from the rot and destruction that is my heart, turning it into its personal paradise. The shriveled organ becomes its haven. Somewhere to feel safe and warm. Suddenly, the wriggling I felt changes, becomes m