Bug Guts

on a particularly inferior Friday,
as I was writing and working my words into sense and money,
I noticed a little fly or gnat circling my fingers and face.

in a quick movement,
I grabbed at the thing,
squishing it in my hand, between tattooed fingers. 

as I wiped it off on my chair,
I felt a twinge of emotion,
something like remorse, but then I pushed that down with anger and coffee.