Being Bitten

Bug bites are never fun

With the terrors of West Nile Virus,

Malaria, Tick fuelled terror,

I think a mosquito bite is fairly deadly,

Little red bumps that don’t itch,

But I scratch at them,

Then they swell into horrors,

The size of  toes,

Horribly red, and so annoying,

Yet I scratch and make them worse,

Four on my leg, one in the crook of my elbow,

Come on, I only wore dark pants!

Being bitten by a bug,

How could I go like this?

 

On the edge

One jump to nothingness, so I fly

I stare at the same screen,

Hoping for something, 

Anything to spark a post, 

Anything. 

And so this is the edge, 

Of poetry to nothing, 

From writing to the abyss that opens, 

Waiting for a failure, 

Yet I do not want to jump, 

And so I fly, 

With this post about nothing, 

I am stuck on the edge