12/11

barbed wire hammock 

all afternoon i pretend to be sleeping.
a disciple of self-punishment, 
i invent new gods who tell me, "you are just
an acorn squash." my guts are every where
& they smell like bicycles. in a room
of sunglasses, i am just shielding my eyes
& hoping the throbbing will all go away. the trees bend
with my weight. i tell them "this is only 
for a few hours." the wires are comfortable.
not severing skin at all. yes, it's is not as bad as 
it could be. oh how i want to stop thinking like this when
somewhere there is a bed made of bones just for me.

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