The Bracelet
Stuck in my bracelet,
Like strung up brains.
Eating my name in pieces, strips.
It’s been two days.
Everyone has eyes and cracking joints.
No buzz, or splintering.
Maybe just a little taste of transcension.
And me.
Sickness and burrowing.
Like the shadows do.
Tipping the burden onto my piercing brain.
Sickness is nothing like me.
My weird bracelet is like wires like me.
Rubbing my hands excitedly.
Moving my hands around as if a meteor is passing by and I could catch it…
Or even Saturn’s rings floating a couple miles north.
I could chop this bracelet off anytime.
If they gave us…
The pointy things we salivate over.
In the shower.
In the shower, it’s more brutal than ever.
Wear nothing except this…
Thing.
Sickness is nothing like me!
A little taste of transcension.
And the hasty results.
It’s been three days.
On a clock which transcends even me.
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