the goddamned gnats
are back
beelezebub has sent
his swarm to drive me
farther insane

it starts
with the goddamned gnats
a precursor
as i pour bleach
down the drain
i can feel myself
spiraling down

writing poetry
for an audience
of none
stripping myself bare
is less daunting
when you realize
no one fucking cares

just the gnats
dark swirls of depression
and a recurring headache
that kicks like a mule
and comes on
with the taste of batteries
a constant buzzing swarm
as i play
self therapist listing
off reasons to live
and amateur exterminator
bringing only death
and the dichotomy
is most certainly
not lost on me

reaching out for help
and getting
high fived then
pushed back down the hill
flopping and flailing
another poet
that understands
their own insignificance
tired of being
a cause of pollution
when the only solution
is to quit
knowing i will never
get ahead
just slipping into madness
in a cloud of gnats
i can clearly tell
are just my own failings