Ants are crawling up my arms,
Biting and squirming like a second skin,
Pulling my heart from my chest in frantic tones,
Eating at my organs like leeches and beasts.
They squabble with one another,
Fight over who gets the fingers and toes,
Bring chills down my spine regardless of the donned layers,
Itch at my scalp just waiting for me to pull my hair.
I glare at them,
But am pliant and suave,
Simply lying there,
Letting them take control.
Am I nothing but a planet?
A hill for them to rest upon,
And eat,
And survive,
At least I serve a purpose for these ants.
I long for them gone,
And know if I stand they would fall,
But do not,
For uncertainty and lead in my limbs weigh me down.
The ground stares harshly up at me,
Whispers of grass ruffled spitting insults to my coiling stomach,
I see the ants crawl away,
If only for a moment,
And I miss them.