is not just mental,
but physical;
each side of the brain droops,
slowly sinking downward
pouring a lack of tears into either eye
which, when they fall,
drag down both corners of the mouth
their weight reflective upon every *****,
every limb
and all the pieces that once made up a person,
now,
too heavy

you said i painted you as a monster
i hate my hands
now i finally understand
why Van Gogh cut off his ear

Am I the only one who wonders,
what ants do all the time?
When they walk seemingly without a pattern,
do they know where they are going?
What do ants think of us, do we scare them,
or are we not importand enough to care about?
How do they communicate?
Can they be sad?
I keep thinking about the ants?
Do they ever think like this, about the flies? Or spiders, or butterflies?
Who will ever know...