Pinned and Wriggling on the Wall

At work I roll the roller of the mouse and it makes a clicking sound.  Sometimes I roll it furiously and in despair.  Roll!  Roll!  I shout at it, but it never rolls fast enough, and suffering ensues.

At night, in bed, a moth has been trapped behind the shutters and wants out.  His flappity wings reverberating on the shutters do not sound dislike the rolling roller of my mouse.  The moth wants out and flapities that much harder, and the sound rings into my dreams and then into reality.

Using Pure Logic, the moth has found his way out of the shudders.  He just stopped flapping and walked out, like a sane person.  In a rest from the flapping, in a rest of his reeling mind, a thought came to him from some unused faculty.  It said: "Chill the fuck out.  Just chill the fuck out and how about taking a deep breath.  Try getting over yourself you moron and just walk the fuck out," etc.  And that's what he did.

Now he is perched On High, in some dark corner of the ceiling, and I can hear his wheedling.  He is waiting for just the right moment to fly into the blacks of my eyes, and at this time, and in my condition, they are huge.  I will not open them.  So he sets his beedy little eyes on my ear holes and salivates.  I am unable to shut my ears, just ask the collection of ear Whigs I have dredged from the canals, which are now pinned to the wall.  "JUST ASK THAT COLLECTION OF MOTHS PINNED TO THE WALL!"  I shout at him.  But he is too busy rubbing his little hands together and salivating.  Despite his one High Thought, he is still just a moth.

Did you know that moths are attracted to the light, because the darkness looks blacker immediately around it?  Also, I have not yet described to you the brightness of my irises.  Or maybe I have, whatever.  When the spirit is with me they shine like lithium light bulbs.  And as it happens, the spirit is with me.  If I open my eyes my pupils will call like the most seductive of vixens.  I will not.

In the morning I see the moth has suffered some horrible death in the nighttime.  One wing is shredded.  One leg lies severed inches from his body.  What has caused such torment, I wonder.  What has caused such an untimely death?  And then I remember: My Flickery Eye Syndrome.  Oh No!  Without knowing it, I have driven this poor wretch to a painful self-annihilation.  So maybe I was wrong.  Maybe he had two (2) High Thoughts.  I pin his body to the wall.