The Moth

I was sound asleep, then a light tapping sound woke me up. Initially I figured it was the branches of the tree knocking against the window above my bed-it wasn't. It sounded meatier than that, had the heater kicked on and started to ruffle papers on my bedside table-nope. Then I heard the sound that made me spring out of bed and head downstairs to grab a candle. The buzzing and fluttering of a full out aerial assault of a moth.
It's now 4:45 am, and I am wide awake and lighting a cigarette while nervously scouting the room, remaining at full attention for another strike. I thought about waking up Lisa to come up here and catch the motherfucker, but she had already killed her insect for the day. Not to mention the thought of her having to clickity clack her plastic corset together just to come up here to destroy an insect seemed far too tragic. I suppose if I had some weed I could have coaxed her with the idea of a 4:20 joint-maybe next time.

I am not even afraid of the moth, for all I care it can fly into the closet and feast on a vintage t-shirt. I am not nervous of it flying around me right now, as I sit her typing this, a bit of a headache, a glass of water and incense burning to my right. I am terrified by the idea of closing my eyes and hearing the buzzing of the seemingly kamikaze mission start over. Part of me wishes I could be a really heavy sleeper all of the time. There have been nights where you could have crept into my room, played a game of yahtzee, blended a couple margaritas and maybe even played an acoustic cover of some top twenty song without me even flinching. Sadly, there have been instances where I have been alerted by a car backfiring outside or the intensity of sirens blaring from some strobe light donning emergency vehicle off to hopefully rescue whoever is in harm. There has even been mornings where the plastic wrapped thunk of the newspaper being delivered on the front porch has stirred me from my slumber. I considered ear plugs, but my paranoia would kick in and I would end up imagining all sorts of goings on happening around me.

I am looking down at the Franz Kafka book I have been meaning to read, and the few super painkillers I have remaining-both are really bad ideas while trying to fall asleep I have concluded.
The trick to moths is that they always go bonkers around the brightest source in the room. I, being full of mixed emotions am certainly not giving off much of an inviting aura I suppose. Moths always have and always will be suckers for a flame. Spending the night flying around neighbourhoods, bouncing off of front porch lights and eventually creeping through cracks in the screen. The only thing separating my room from the summer breeze that is five am. Moths have no idea that they are spending their entire life rushing around, investing in all of the bad ideas and either smashing their heads over and over on some unrequited front porch lantern or bomb diving into the inviting glow of a torch. Come to think of it, I hope not to wake up and find the poor winged assailant encased in wax. Only some creatures deserve their place amongst the Madame Tussaud replicas.