Musty
I have ants like Easter eggs lost in the grass.
Feeling the wasp nest in my neck like a mass.
I bellowed because my head has no chance.
Like grasshoppers who can’t prance.
I belong because I am a basement floor.
Who gets cracks in it like a burning core.
I belong like spiders sipping on the harmful dust.
Hurts like sandpaper we can’t trust.
But I belong because I am like Saturn.
That rusty, reddish pattern.
Head musty like decisions.
No kind of revisions.
Shocking.
Spiderwebs interlocking.
Belonging isn’t always kind to me.
I still am a glob in the sea.
Soap scum come to fruition.
I was just wistful fishin’.
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