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the demise of lightning bugs.All of these thoughts in my mind. Never do they stop spinning, cycling; these thoughts. They seem so constant. Sometimes they drag, stopping me in my tracks; forcing my lungs to scream in protest. Usually, it's not too bad. Sometimes it is. I never wanted anyone or anything more than this. Please believe me. None of this seems to make any sense as the lines of ink hit the page. Like little bugs, the black letters. Bugs hitting the white pages of this journal. Poor little fellas. Maybe they could be lightning bugs.the demise of lightning bugs.
Perhaps they could light the way before they met their end; & I'd wear their fluorescence as war paint.
by ~harlequin-angel
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