“Everything is going according to plan.”
Your visits cool the flies above my head. This, that… everything I could be doing, instead of what I am. But when you’re here, I’m by your side. Our common experiences are the world, and the rest of existence drifts by unheeded. When you’re here, I brush things comfortably away. Those flies above my head… When you’re here, they fly so high, I hardly hear their thrumming wings.
And when you leave, they descend upon my rotting corpse, ravenous. A feast of sound, and everything, everything comes calling. I play music so loud it drowns out the banshee’s scream, but those flies’ wings just won’t quit, and somehow, everything, everything is wrong.