Spray doesn’t pay,
Though you spray all day,
Though you drive them away –
The mosquitoes will stay.
They will drone,
They will moan,
They will bite to the bone.
Driving sane minds
(From the bites they have grown)
To a state most unknown.
’Tis the mosquitoes’ delight,
On my land, in my sight,
To turn my day, my picnic, to blight.
To make me foresee
The Apocalypse, see
The smirking face of deceit.
To make me believe,
That God, should he live,
Isn’t much of a great –
Since he’d tolerate
This vile, buzzing fake reality –
The mosquito camarilla –
And its potentate.
2024
The Mosquito Camarilla
© Copyright: Константин Феофанов, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126031306028
Свидетельство о публикации №126031306028
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