The Hanger

By the pores of my skin some monster jostled me.

I quivered in its decaying sharp nails like a squirming maggot.

 

The evenings flashed out of vision like a chameleon’s tongue

A realm of sloughing black mornings in a slimy mouth.

 

Vulnerable tendencies cocooned me within this nest

If you love me, you wouldn’t save me.

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