the white spider sits
perched
on my top lip
and spins black thread
to plait a web across
a mouth that’s
not mine anymore
and
a thud manic motion
blinks
from ear to ear
and shoots small comets
down a rabbit hole
of a mind that’s
not mine anymore
and
the walls slip sideways
braced
to cave and break
and swallow me up
with the dust
and the bones
that
aren’t mine anymore.
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