Bottle Fly's

Damn bottle fly's. Spring has sprung it's funk, here I live, I'm not alone. On my bed the cats, they fart. The flys have smelled the cheese the cats have made. Their farts attract the flys, three Circles, two circle like a plane with out a place to land. Bottle flys, flys that walk across the pale fish eyes. One fights a roach and walks across the crotch of drawers left out unwashed. The farting cats you think of dogs like that. Bottle flys that walk on turds. Across my food, food like you, that I left out. Angry that they flew so far away.