Somedaybugs

Alicia Parker

Feb 20, 2022

1 min read

Updated: Jan 15, 2023

This wreckage

The wreck of our age

(I think to myself)

Somedaybugs will crawl across my eyelids and burrow in my mouth

Making a trail, a pilgrimage through my long dead corpse

Dark and somber like an ancient relic

Are we not gods to them?

They, so small, indistinguishable, easily smudged out

If that’s what a god is,

A ghost, a force of destruction and finally a home

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