A/N- This one isn't serious at all. It's me being chaotic. Have fun reading.
Last night,
There was a bug in my room.
I'm cool with the spiders,
But I draw the line at space invaders.
He was chilling in the ceiling.
I threw my shoe at him.
He didn't like that.
He flew onto the pull string of my fan.
Little bastard.
Must have known I couldn't throw my shoe there.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I started spitting into the air and trying to hit him.
I know, I'm a gay wreck.
But his wing curled up.
I
GOT
HIM.
To attempt to get him down,
I tried whacking the fan with several different flannels.
None of them were heavy enough to give me any accuracy.
I kept missing.
He disappeared.
I decided to take a break.
There were black spots in my vision.
I was dizzy.
I was shaking.
I coughed
And it tasted metallic.
Am I dying?
I became paranoid.
I saw shadows dance across the ceiling.
Are his wings dry?
True terror was realized.
One last time,
To put my mind at peace,
I walked back over to the fan.
HE WAS THERE.
I threw my shoe.
He fell to the ground.
I mercilessly slaughtered him.
I can watch Friends in peace.
YOU ARE READING
Sam Glaspy's Poetry
PoetrySam Glaspy's sad and gay poetry about her stupid dumb life. Welcome to hell, loves! WE DID IT Y'ALL- #5 IN SYNESTHESIA AFTER ONLY TEN VOTES THAT REALLY TELLS YOU HOW LITTLE PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT IT BUT IM STILL PROUD OF US!
