Bugs

There are no bugs in this universe. We only have a single curse. There’s nothing but dust in the back. No spiders which could attack. There’s no way to feel the legs of a centipede. Or let any butterflies feed. The only evil here is the old roller coaster. And the rusty toaster. Insects really are a way of life. I used to see them with strife. But now, in this place, I do digress. There are no bees which are precious. There are no wasps, which I used to hate. They would bug me when I ate. Outside, on the beach… I remember that bite of peach. On the beach, or in my yard. Who knew the silence would be so hard? Without worms crawling around. Or bees making a buzzing sound. I thought I felt a sting on my arm. I thought it was a bee doing me harm. But really, it was a phantom sting. I still try to listen to cicadas sing. I wish a firefly would say hello. Or even a fly landing on my elbow. There are no bugs in this universe. The sadness only got worse… I heard their song. I wish I could be strong. I used to be scared of spiders under my bed. But now, I have visions of Them instead.