Mental Ants
Mental ants.
Sleepy, creepy, all trembling.
They are like tickling.
Or manifestations.
Ants are alive sometimes.
They take turns being alive.
Sometimes they eat.
So they’re weird.
My mental ants.
Make me as antsy as an apple pie.
Splattering on the ground.
Manifestations.
Sometimes I have dreams about puffs of light air.
They hurry away.
Mental screaming.
If I were broken into pieces:
Each piece of me would grow little antsy legs and antennae.
But also disintegrate at the same time.
That’s all that’s left.
Specks that are resilient.
Training my ants to be helpful.
It makes it worse.
They tell me it’s not possible.
To grow.
Like things that grow.
Mental screaming.
Nothing splatters like it used to.
They don’t try.
Ants on my mind.
Are more than riddles.
But less than real.
Next time I’ll manifest something useful.
Mental ants.
They are more resilient than I’ll ever be.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.