There is a beetle trying to emerge
from my brain. Its stick-legs squirm
and prick the membranes in my head.
When on rainy nights I walk and fall
into sewer drains, it opens its shell
and releases its wings. The fluttering tips
feather my waxy ear canals but rushing
water floods and drowns the buzzing. I dry
and keep on walking, trying
to find an air of truth.
A Bug in a City
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