the ants are crawling my brain
I have killed them
like so many addictions, that have carried me through
to the next day.
Without this irritation, there are no corpses to crush
no insects, calling my name.
Being totally solved, is not my game
the knowledge, that I am forgetting
like a cookie, eaten by ants
they crawl into my eyes, I despise, their tiny feet
smashed and deformed,
like a psychotic symphony
a serial killer analogy, to the lives that don’t matter
and only irritate me.
Who will my mentors be?
My Masters, are rejected, even me.
To choose a friend, that makes me feel good
is the insect I keep alive, that I feed rotten fruit to
will it feed on me, when I die?
Strange, the importance of company
how most people won’t make me feel that way
just an ant, without a colony, looking for another brain to irritate.
I need to get away, from me, the ants are dead
dismembered heads, legs, and acid
cover my work-bench
where I have smashed them with notepads.
It’s not an act of cruelty
stomping them, one-at-a-time
it’s the only way I can get them out of my head.