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

What is?

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

or,

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.