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.