the never ant

there is an ant in my brain.
he does not move
miles
he does not
hold communion or exercise some form of
work.
he crawls and is so
small
he is the never ant. the never
ant
of my moments.
he is
gun shy
like a horse. he is thin. he is not an
arsonist. he does not tell good jokes.
his body is cold and black and asexual. his mind is
non*worthy of
god.
he feels like charlie chaplin’s mustache. he looks like
abe lincoln’s
dead
tongue.