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Honey-suckle Murders

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Its starting to smell like honey suckles once more. The pollen of new spring makes me nose itch, but my eyes stay dry. The beds of clovers are swarmed with love bugs. They're only looming right above the earth. It makes me nervous and my stomach hurt. Thinking that at any moment that they could fall to their death by our accidental stomps. All because of their refusal to fly above our legs. We are all murderers in the season of sweet honey suckle. Something so beautiful can be so horrible. Due to our murderous streak upon the most help less of bugs. The grass is rising, along with the heat. Bees are scattered everyone sucking any new bloom that blossoms. Wisterias are spouting in the strangest of places and delivering their succulent scent proudly. As this is happening the vines are sweeping around our innocent victims.





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