My Flies

[This is some poetry or maybe lyrics that i wrote a while ago…. “what does it mean?” you asked…. “well, i guess its up to your interpretation,” answered I…. not sure if it’s especially great, but i hope you enjoy]

my flies

circlin in a frenzy round my head

I never mind those sorry things I’ve said

and I don’t miss the days they weren’t there

cause I can make ‘em all just disappear

or trap ‘em in these jars that fill with cries

that come from out these things, I call them flies

my flies

the longer I don’t mind them

they’ll just overwhelm and blind me

and I’ll finally see clearly

That I’ve worn this blindfold dearly

So its time to start unmasking

for some clarity, I’m asking

And I’ll be in a state of daze

Flying with my flies for days

For a moment ill just lose all ties

From the outside world and fly beside flies

my flies

just out of seeing distance

people see me for an instance

the onlookers see me swinging 

for these flies that only I see

they’ll assume my moment’s madness

But “non compos mentis,” and this

would be no exception to some rule

There’s not much that I’d care to do to fool

all of those who watch, with some disguise

Cuz its not worth losing focus off the flies

my flies make circles round my head

Yet, Ex nihilo nihil fit

they’re not the type that fly around

and pester on with buzzing sounds

But what’s the use of telling you?

You’ll only be that more confused

[photo by: Rona Gelman]