Infestors, Unbidden Harvesters Poem by John Sensele

Infestors in our lives abound
In our pleasure, our leisure, our treasure
Found on the ground our feet pound
In the illusion seizure and amnesia

We grow when blows
Whip us at the core of our faith
When sorrow throws
With fast breath

On our neck they breathe
Our bliss to steal
In their seethe
Of anger they deal

With a smile on the face
They show and draw
In depth and on the surface
In each claw bereft of law

In your flesh they sink
With rolling eyes
To blink, wink and clink
In the pyres, in the fires

They light without a fight
Giggling, wriggling
As their grip grows tight with every bite
Infestors sting in their bling, on their wing as to your sorrow they cling.