The Ant King

I wish I could do more,

but the ants never stop;

they crawl in sugar, wail

inside their saccharine fantasy,

and I fight them with


feet and evil words, though

it feels like a less-in futility,

and the sun is never hot


enough, so the trumpet

music rings high, and higher

steel, so we make a tent,

and I feel my heart-ache,


but the darkness sits on me,

crawls in-side my head,

underwater, undertow,


I am a cow in line next,

slaughtered for my body,

my glib eyes burrowed

in your mind, and I chew

and chew, but


I will never defeat the ant

king, and I will die

knowing nothing, fully

content with my ignorance.



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Thanks for reading!


~ by Shawn M. Young on June 24, 2016.

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