I sat upon an anthill
The ants were not amused, They called me inconsiderate I was threatened and accused, When I discovered my grievous error I leaped up to apologize, Brushing my clothing vigorously Much to their surprise. I discovered sometime later Ants are very clever, They will sneak inside one's clothing Like a military endeavor, A nibble here, a nibble there A crawling sensation in my hair, Getting their revenge For disturbing their home and lair. Ants are devious That's for sure, Tea tree oil was The cure, A lesson was learned For future use, Be more careful where I sit To avoid ant abuse.
Buzzing blue beetle
Tumbling clumsily Over my head; Striking my chest and Falling into my lap, Apparently unbothered. How did you get in? It doesn't matter. I'll place you outside. You open your wings And spring off into the air.
Living on the toilsome trail
A mere speck Without flight Or even the aid From a friendly leaf blower I make my way Upon my belly Born to struggle But shaped to endure
I could stare at myself in the mirror for hours.
It starts in my extremities. a chill creeps its way into my abdomen, and cements my joints. The bacteria residing in my intestines dine on my organs for supper, they blow up my stomach until I'm pregnant with air, my non-existent baby forcing thick liquid out every orifice. It tickles, when the flies visit my rotted skin. Their steps light and playful, turn sinister, and force their way into my open mouth to lay their eggs. I wait, as the larvae devour my brain tissue. When I have nothing left to give, I'll pull down my lower eyelid and let the maggots slide out.
drift on claw songs for roots of hiccups
these words fail
to capture any such real emotions we talk and we talk, sure but you can't feel my anger frustration, my sadness left to wonder in a wander through the maze that is the mind with pen put to paper the characters resemble more inkblots than letters and so yielding myself to the misery self-induced that has, as of yet, only ate at the heels my chrysalis burst but no winged thing emerge only pus, bubbling out my pupa
Hello there insect buzzing through the air why don't you come & sit in my snare... ...I mean chair I have six legs, see? I'm just like you oh, these? my arms? why yes, there's two so come, little one dawn has begun take refuge from the sun in this hammock I've spun there, isn't that nice? what? your legs? you said they won't move? there, there my winged friend I know just what to do! 🕷🕸🦟
Beware of insects with arms.
The love bug
is not kept in a jar but left to roam from afar. The love bug must be set free to see if it was meant to be.
half asleep i carefully place
lemon slices on top of all the walls and sprinkle tea tree oil around the door i read it wards off sadness or cockroaches my roommate complains of a familiar smell and we discuss the insurgence of nostalgia against the monarchy of the endless march of time the way the what could have been gilts the grass we walk through with guilt towards happiness i’m singing “off with the heads of the things i can’t forget” tiny feet in the passage whisper “no one has crossed a meadow & emerged with clean feet” i remember cursing dew as a child for dirtying my shoes as i walked to the car and slowing me at the start of races i was never going to win out in the corridor i encounter the king who doesn’t move as i raise my foot only laughs and says “a cockroach can survive a week without its head and a memory much longer”