I see you looking at me, with your two eyes (just two, I might add, is a cheap shot of luck...fuck) glaring me down but I try to seem busy...busy to out...to Fly! with my rat-a-tat-tat buzz scheme.
Don't you judge! You hold your pen like a spire but does it not LEAN?? Threaten to spill and wobble? It does! So you are no better than I, the slam in the glass, in my face! I leave my little mark and I try, try, try. Wing prints stain the glass (though they prefers to swat a breeze....and YOU! prefer to swat me?) and what do you stain? Miss holder of thy sacred pen, recorder of sacred annoyances...but who talks to you? I talk THROUGH you. I get into your INK!
(Haha and it's you who thinks you writes your own grief). Is it not my buzz that furrows your brow? Haha, at least I MAKE noise. Though my barrier is invisible and yours is...variable...I can see THROUGH! I shove and shove and YOU are my jealous fan.
Clever bitch but still no twitch. An itch? Buzz with me, eh?