Bugs

Bugs

I lay beneath the ceiling fan

tiny gnats penetrate my bedroom screens

Following the fans spinning propeller

with my eyes

I think nothing

I am nauseated with suffocating summer night heat

Beetles, having broken and entered,

find no escape

Clicking and bouncing off the hot light bulb

Imagined shapes in stucco finish of the eternally white ceiling

the light stares

I close my eyes

fluorescent shapes haunt behind black eyelids

Can't move

Don't want to

Thoughts are too heavy to cross my mind

Nothing to do

in the heavy, moist air

I cannot sleep

Silence -

except the hypnotizing tick of the clock

the whirl of the fan above

and bouncing,

Frustrated

Bugs.