It started at one a day

An annoyance

Gold and black

Pointless aggression

 

One a day is painless

But as we slipped further

And further

Into the depths of frustrated idleness

They began pouring in

 

Five a day

Five an hour

Dozens an hour

 

Still we sat

Talking

Watching television

A wad of kitchen paper on the coffee table

Ready to pounce

 

I had mastered the technique

In fact

I was so capable

I would surely go down in folklore

Songs would be sung

Paintings commissioned

Chapters written

 

The bin began to fill up

Kitchen paper

And bodies

 

Viscera smeared the windows

Ensuring even in death

They ruined the view

 

Still we sat

As the room filled

 

Each step like a tightrope walk

Each day hazier

Filled with humming

Buzzing

Insatiable anger

 

They circle overhead

Banging and crashing

Deafening

 

I sit here now

As they fill my body

Crawl through my veins

Up to my brain

A black cloud

Of barely repressed rage

 

My breath rattles venom

Where once was life.