Sanguine Debt

The mosquitoes bound in a vanilla sky.

They lie in wait until day is nigh.

They’re drawn to my dermis and flowing sweat.

While concocting distortions of sanguine debt.

They show their weapon. I show my skin.

A look of warning. A maniacal grin.

They blindly stab and pierce my flesh.

A prick. A gushing. A blood red mess.

Bottoms up while they humor their purse.

Salivating lies for their insatiable thirst.

Then they withdraw with a brimming bladder.

And hide away like it never mattered.