visitor one

along the carpet,
a bug.
brown sheen
to its back,
it scurries.
it comes toward
me
and stops.
it is staring at me,
antennas twitch,
independent of
one another.
a few more inches
and it looks again.

what are you?
it wonders.
why the fuck are you so big?
you leave shit lying around everywhere.
what did you expect? of course I've come.
of course I am here with you.
you left me no choice.
no choice at all.

it scurries closer,
tiny legs propelling it
fast through the fibers
and
up
to my shoe.
an antenna slides
along the leather.
it stops.
it pretends it is not
there.
it pretends I'm not there.
it imagines something I
cannot fathom.

if both you and I are here right now,
under these perfect set of circumstances,
where shall we be if we are to ever
meet again?

I am lost.

what if I am from another reality entirely
and I am simply here to observe you, to
find the sticky parts that make you work?

what if neither of us are real and the true 
meaning of life is chaos? then what? what
will we do then?

I am lost.

if you blow out a candle,
where does the flame go?

the fuck, you say?!