You Laid Eggs Under my Eyelids? by Bogdan Dragos

the pains in his lower back

were killing him

“Fuck,” he said, “that’s what I get for

not investing into

a decent chair.” He reached into

his pack and took

out another cigarette. “But I gotta smoke

to stay alive.

What a shitty life.”

He typed for another 36 minutes

and then

his friend, the fly, came to rest on his

knuckles. He blew smoke

on it. Laughed

The fly had gotten inside a while

ago. It was a big one, very

curious, ever exploring. And now trapped

He never opened the damned windows

or the door

Sat there in his smoke

and rancid smells. Said they helped with

inspiration for writing. Said

no good writing ever came out

of a healthy mind

He leaned back in his broken chair

watched the fly circle around

the naked light bulb in the ceiling

shook his fist at it…