Pitiful Harvests

[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I harvested regrets
by the armful, while,
forgotten possibilities
swirled around me,
a morphing cloud
of mosquitoes,
breeding
in the fecundity
of anxiety
I ignored them,
forgetting that
populations always grow
in geometric progression
They swarmed,
fogging my path,
leading me into
dead-ends
where I fall,
me and my bouquet
of withered life