From a faux-deep mosquito

You assume I am in hiding

That I find you terrifying

When my mouth can do

More damage than you

Okay, maybe not

But if I get away

With blood on my hands

And lips and stinger

Who’ll be laughing then?

And not in hiding

Suffering ceases to be suffering when it finds meaning

Viktor Frankl

I watch you in the dark

Yours cannot see me

Your frame, delicious in most parts

Marked with palms that slap

To kill

Kin squished

Blood spilled

Yours, granted

But if I get away

It’s your blood on my hands