A love life

The following was written in my creative writing class during a lesson on ants. I know nothing about ants, so any inaccuracy or fumbling around can be excused. Don’t magnify the mistakes, though. Why? Because ants don’t know anything about me either, so I’m sure if they are reading this, they won’t mind.

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I eat. I work. I care. And, it is time.

So I move. I smell. I feel. I smell again. And I find her.

She keeps doing and acting and laying eggs. One. Two. Three. They go on and on and on. She is busy and so am I.

I want to make this quick. Things need to be done. They always need to be done. She knows this best of all; she told me about it first. A chemical madness spoke to me then. I followed it. I still follow it. And so does everyone else.

We are all tied by insanity being sane and sanity being insane.

She moves to the sun and away. Perfume shakes off her. I smell and she smells and we make love.

My feelers tear away at the sweaty hairs. Her backside continues to throb. One. Two. Three. My legs bounce up and I am on top of her. I bite. I pierce. I spit. And it is finished.

The eggs stream as they did before. Nothing has changed. Life goes on.

So, I eat. I work. I care. And, it’s time again.