A man sits and eats accompanied by flies.
A man separated from all through perception.
His world, one of hellish confusion, and twisted wills.
Angry he abides, tongue bitten through.
Resenting and seething, there’s lament for his reality.
The anger exists through the mystery of his ailment.
A disability, unable to see the real world, the world for those who don’t dine with flies.
How can he be so ineffective?
how was it that he was cursed to walk as a ghost and among the flies.
Words Left Along 
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