Speak
To spell with mystical hands.
I feel like I’m being gobbled up in a tomb.
I could blink but not in the normal way.
I used to have hands that munched on everything.
I used to be less glum.
I’m a spectacle.
A rotten spectacle with scraggly, green brains.
The catatonia sets in with painted on anger.
Thought they spoke.
Thought they said, “Take your crocodile ears and head home.”
And even my mystical hands took a lap around.
Some imaginings can speak.
I sure can’t.
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