About the Poem
I have been thinking about moths lately and have grown suspicious of their intentions towards me. Sick or silly you should enjoy this twisted romp through my mind.
Bad Moth Mojo
|by James Bowie
|Today began wonderfully.
A little white moth was flitting by my head
as I went into the kitchen to fix myself some breakfast.
Now I did not register the meaning of the moth's presence
until, half way through eating a bland bowl if rice krispies,
that I noticed there was something amiss.
Sometimes rice krispies have little burnt brown pieces
of puffed rice floating around
with all the other normal pieces of puffed rice.
While chewing on a good sized mouthful,
I noticed that one of the pieces of rice had wings
and was trying to crawl out of my bowl.
After blowing a good portion of my milk sopped cereal out of my nose
I gleefully drowned the bastard young moth,
before turning away from the table to see
where the demon spawned mother had fled to.
As my eyes scanned the room I began to sweat,
the room felt hotter than a cuisinart full of toads.
The bastards probably filled each piece of puffed rice
with some kind of biological toxin in the hopes
that I would come down on this day
and eat this cereal at precisely this moment
so that they could carry out their plans
to take over my home as a base of operations
for the eventual destruction
of every known type of boxed cereal in the world,
which would eventually lead to the extinction of the entire human race.
Oh yes, I had caught on to their little scheme but it may be too late for me.
As I began to become dizzy I spotted the fat bloated mother moth
taunting me from just inches away
on a glass pane on the window over my kitchen sink.
I steeled myself for action and swung a curled fist
as hard and as fast as I could toward the beast,
But I was slow.
As my hand cracked through the shattering glass
and was cut deeply by the window pane born fangs,
the moth flew right at me and then around the back of my head.
I tried to turn but to my horror, as I turned my head,
the moth flew straight into my ear
where all that I could hear
was it's wings fluttering against my eardrum
like an arrhythmic satanic cultists drums
in the middle of a ritual sacrifice of mutilated goats.
Then I lost all control
as I could feel the vile moth burrowing
it's way into my brain,
seeking my brain as a means to control
and enslave me
just as those nasty bug things did to Chekov
in Star Trek 2, The Wrath of Khan.
So it is in these final moments of freedom
that I write to you,
before the moth attains full control of me,
in order to warn you of the danger.
If you see a pretty little moth,
run, run as fast as you can
and hope that you will never have to be subjected
to what I am.
Please for the love of God, run for your life.
THaNk YoU Now He wAS LyINg
MoThs aRe yOuR FriEndS.
We MeAn YoU No HaRm.
JuSt gO tO SLeeP.
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