I am covered with bugs.
Beetles. Lice.
Creeping, crawling things.
No spiders.
They cling to my hair.
I wipe them from my eyelids.
They infest my mouth.
I chew.
I spit them out.
They taste like kidney beans.
The other poets are hosts, too.
We are all hosts.
Food tables outside,
covered in insects.
We dig in.
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Author:
Megan Blaney (
Offline) - Published: August 1st, 2026 05:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments2
Poet pie, followed by worm dessert, it's the rage.
Why does it all happen at 4 am.
Haha I know it. Thank you for your comment 🙏
Now that is a most interesting metaphor and it is a bit creepy but makes sense. I have eaten roast grasshopper and candied ants before, I have swallowed a fly and many gnats, once pulled a spider out of my mouth and those are the ones I know of. Well written
Ew. I hate spiders Lol. This was an actual dream I had last night (or rather, this morning.) Wrote this when I woke up. Thank you for commenting!
Dreams as terrifying as reality bugs are particularly creepy. You are most welcome
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