The Story of The Little Lost Fly

Frozen in the Moment by Happy Hiram Our fly is stuck in amber stinking of dinosaur sweat running from greedy spiders, seeking out foetid flesh. Stars converge/diverge, hairy armpits replace antediluvian quill follicles while he, still dreams of fossilized walking birds, now turned into plastic bags and motor oil. The jungle has now become a thrice filtered product, sanitized for your protection by scavengers and squirrels.