The ants go marching up my legs.
A gentle thing yet so perverse.
Time shifted cruel temple.
Insect nights
Terrible frights
Ascending to new heights.
Error to the throne.
I should be entombed
Or stoned
Could be that I\'m not thinking.
Logical interpretation of divinity
Social graces escape me
A grand ballet
A second chance
Leave this place or stay encased
Trapped in generational self
Creatures on the shelf
Decline of society
Malfunctioning calamity
Tiny little antanae
Vibrations feel
Crawling legs, piercing fangs
I cant be
I cannot exist
Anymore