How I used to love the summer, 
Full of warmth and light.
Playful, hazy, lazy days,
With not a cloud in sight.

Sadly I can no longer claim
To love this sunny season.
Its not the heat, or sudden storms,
But yet another reason. 

They plot and scheme while hunting,
Flying almost incognito,
The very bane of my existence,
Alas! The elusive mosquito.

I hear the buzz, I spot the swarm,
But of course, it is too late.
A prod, a poke, a drink, and now,	
Resigned to my itchy fate!

The welts pop up all over,
Bloody red, and round.
With puncture marks for all to see,
In the center of the mound. 

Try as I might to ignore the wheals,
But the itching won’t subside.
I scratch and scratch and scratch some more,
Until the blood is dried. 

Scabs all over legs and arms,
With no relief in sight.
Looking like a full-fledged leper,
I give up the fight.

“I surrender!” “I surrender!”
Yelling into muggy air.
What kind of feast would you prefer?
Ill provide your favorite fare!

Of course its blood you want, I know
But need it always be mine?
If so, I'll gladly draw a pint,
Invite you all to dine.

I’d leave it out in Petri dishes,
Perhaps on the windowsill,
Flushed with protein, brimming full,
Drink till you’ve had your fill!

I’d draw it once, or twice, a day
Always be willing to please,
Just keep your probiscus’ far from me,
And your malaria overseas. 

Would you take me up on this offer?
Let me provide you with your cuisine?
As long as you cease the biting,
Prevent that dreaded histamine!

Alas! A waste of precious time
It was to no avail
Those teeming insects do not care
And their feeding will prevail. 

Try as I might to curb my appeal,
Their swarms only get thicker,
Their unquenchable thirst for human blood
Matched only by man’s for liquor.

What awful creatures, I loathe them so.
Must they always leave a mark?
Of God, I have just one question,
Why did you let them on the arc?

Aside from frenzied feeding,
And the nuisance that they bring,
These insects deserve no place in life,
They serve no purpose, not a thing!

Maybe they could be forgiven,
If they had some beauty or esteem,
But you’ve seen their awful dangling legs,
And heard their whiny scream! 

The way they rub their hands together,
Like an eager, greedy, queen
Plotting their next attack and victim,
Rarely heard, and seldom seen

And so, it seems I have no choice
But to never go outside.
Lest I fall prey to thirsty mouths,
From which I cannot hide.

To pay with my entire summers,
Might seem too high a price,
But if it costs them just one meal,
I think it should suffice.