Bugs

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