bloodstains on the page

the page of my pad
on which this pome was
written: stained with
my own blood;
no, not from a self-inflicted
wound, from the bite
of one of those plentiful
blood-sucking little bastards,
the Massachusetts
mosquito,
the latest mutation
of which are the size of
butterflies,
and they attack your face,
especially your eyes;
screw Al Quaida,
these skeeters
will finish us off first.



June 29, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.