(bugs of my childhood + something i titled in sims for an author sim. the muse keeps chugging my tea. she also doesn’t fucking exist so i have to do this all myself while half asleep even as my tea disappears.)
Tender dawn opens over the sky
a curtain of gossamer as thick as gold
a silk worm’s blood
Thinkin’ bout little lightning bugs that dominated summer, the light show circus go on to find better jobs
(caged in bottles)
only the determined light the grass and the walls in the heat of a sleeping sun.
but despite their hard work there
just aren’t enough
to fight the heated lanterns.
to fight outtrick the light.
Thinkin’ bout monarch caterpillars, dark and mottled and wide
of a caterpillar, harmless
walls are warm, and sterile
so I threw them out of school so they wouldn’t die starving
Thinkin’ bout dead ladybugs and beating little wings like glittering fire on carpet and on stone and uncomfortable steps and no fear just exasperation.
why you gotta get yourself killed like that. suffocate yourselves
suffocate each other
The nine-spotted moth crashes into grass-studded rock,
antenna bent and wings spread.