June bug, I'm tired of all the blurry fragments of summer, that we neglect without the proper respect. All I want is to see through new eyes and treat the world like my own private painting. Words form on the edge of our tongues to scratch away the surface of the ocean. We're still learning to swim, despite the tragedy we all claim to remember from our childhood. We only substitute lust for love when it's too hot to make an effort. We're all pretty (beautiful) whores, unable to smile in between the lines. We nestle lies and set up simplistic traps for ourselves. We're slowly learning to breathe.
June bug, stay away from me; I'm merely trying to get some sleep and let my mind function on its own, of its own accord. Of course, you can. Stay awhile but keep a safe distance. Mourning makes me sleepy. Sadly, we can't see clearly now, the rain is here. It's moving in. We're treating sand with glass and waiting patiently for the sky to fall into the water. Give me my new eyes and let me see again. These tears are choking my soul. I just want to see everyone to witness their reaction to my reckless treatment of insects. Everyone is preoccupied with pesticides. We are all distracted by dirt.
