beetle

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
KAFKAESQUE

Submitted: May 21, 2013

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Submitted: May 21, 2013

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I, conscious oilslick body bubbling under heat, hardening under dark, bloating and deflating under foods and glycerins

applied with vigorous motherly force, regenerating under God my immunity,

my woe-be-gone gelatin being (a sore and smelly bruise);



I grow quickly tense and hot to the touch.

remains of my necrotic self collect layers which

overhang my eyes, stuff my breath, strangle my nerves into masses of draggled worms;

phantom limbs now sprout from the hub,

the head-hole I've retreated to,

a thickly-littered pit I've worn soft with sleep.


I continue to amputate-

an ambulatory shell is quite efficient.

just an exoskeleton to cradle my meats and simple, gnawing instincts.

daylight pulled away its poisoncolors,

and i see

my own violet acid will soon be sweet and sticky

between the teeth of whatever finds me first.



© Copyright 2019 Caroline Michaud. All rights reserved.

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