Saturday, 18 February 2017

Mosquitos fly over me like lethal dive-bombers
I'm the moving target
Their aim is deadly accurate
Aiming for the prime targets of my fleshy legs or arms full of rich addictive blood
My saving grace is their loud humming 
That gives away their precarious position like a snapped twig ringing out eliminating silence
Methodically i squash the flying insects with their transparent flimsy wings A well placed swat almost collides causing a concussed bug to fall to the ground
Faster than a spitfire shot down behind enemy lines
Only with the power to end this miniscule life and cause him to go tumbling into the next
Does my conscious attack me like friendly fire
Ashamed I pray for his recovery and future pilgrimage of blood that is less sweet than mine

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