When that pupal skin splits..
I tread water and wait to dry,
In a godlike manner,
This pond was once my manor,
but now I must fly,
and now I’m despised,
Cos’ me and my army make the deaf privilleged,
We’ll pillage a village,
The villains who witness, that blood is not red, but blue.
And chances are,
You’ve bled when we used a tube,
and left your veins abused.
I’m a noisy acupuncturist,
and you’re thinking,
I ought to have you done for this.
But what’s the harm?
It’s just a bit of blood between friends,
From your leg, face or arm.
If I’ve been spotted you might just extent,
Resulting in a bloodied palm,
but the sullied calm is short.
My swarm will attack, from their aeronautical fort,
but of course,
You can net the windows and spray a mist of molecular police,
There’ll always be a hum to wake you from your sleep,
and the swat team keeps,
Missing by a mile,
In a beat of wings..
I spot a body of warmth,
Standing in the crop,
His young face mourns as he meddles in the plot,
and the dark sunken eyes drop,
As his skinny extended stomach,
Demands and summons a square meal,
but bare heeled,
He conceals his hunger and almost beckons my bite.
So I strike, plunging my proboscis,
Into the bony skull of lost wits,
I plunge my needle nose,
Skin deep and more,
Into the dermis of woes,
and the nectar flows,
Into my belly,
Which is rapidly swelling.
Now I’ve turned red,
and the dark skin from which I’ve fed,
Doesn’t notice a thing,
Cos’ the sting swells up after I’ve had a drink,
and it wouldn’t be fair if I took without giving..
That living person I just bit,
was a kid,
and now he’s sick,
he just doesn’t know it.
Injected with an infectious disease,
he’ll join the million others who are buried,
as their families shed tears of grief,
at the graveside crumpled at the knees…
Don’t share needles?
tell that to the workers of the fields,
who’s crop yield..
And now we bring Zika: which, is scarier?
Anopheles – a genus of malaria carrying mosquitos, by the female only