There's a tiny dragonfly trapped in my head.
Dragonflies are harmless... right?
Must have found it's way there during one of my absences.
Apocalypse could come and go and I wouldn't even know it.
The wily dragonfly bounces aimlessly from wall to wall
It's spindly legs poking at hairline fractures
It's delicate limbs widening the cavities.
Tickles at first.
Then pokes, scrapes.
Then stomps and smashes itself at my nerve endings.
Hurling itself at my logic
Defecating on memories.
Carrying destruction on the tips of its limbs, infecting perception.
It's only a matter of time before the nerve centre is felled completely.
It may already be done.
Apocalypse could come and go.
And I wouldn't even know it.
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