this spider bite has me acting not right
not right
phatasma and stigmata and tarantula
i myth, i myth, i myth, into a little, choking fit,
you get a clue and fast walk with it
i wake up in a ceramic plate
I wake up to the sound of a belly alarm
It purs outside and lets out a little glow/
catepillar growth
I'm kept here
figuring out my days
they don't have my brand of ice
or a vomit of guilt
stored under my breasted chest
the hospital makes me come to terms with
my hatred of men
when you're crusted in the corner
with women in lab suits
gracing you pills
girls start to have a dark mark