Fruit Jar Fileflies

I see words, and they see me
It’s true they are sentient, quite
But they will never see
my world through my loins

They keep floating by, ever speaking
never ceasing like tinnitus to my transient sight
Like orphans somewhere never

Their little fingers grope as they look at me squarely
Speaking barely, “nurse me into your light”
just before they are gone forever
 
So much needless loss
I spill my precious sperms on the ground
and kill my darlings before they become darlings
Their lot is to die in the silence sound
of my reverie

If only I could catch them like you do fireflies in a fruit jar

How pretty they would be to see in chaotic containment
and how witty they could be for those with the sight
But alas, my heart cannot hold all the incandescence ink
required for such a noble and beautiful task
 
So I shall be satisfied to smile when I catch one or two