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Webbed Up Poem Written By Unknown

Webbed Up Poem Written By Unknown

Spider Poem

Webbed Up Poem Written By Unknown

Webbed Up Poem Written By Unknown

Webbed Up Poem

1

according to logic

0/100 is any possibility
of an insect
laying its eggs within
the posterior of
your throat

2

“i have seen demons,” says
the man with ten voices living
in his head––

his body is covered
in miasma––
he is a conduit of odeur

he has three degrees in
schizophrenia

& one in amphetamine

so all is well

3

the definition of asphyxiation
is, by Webster terms,

“to kill, suspend animation
in, or make unconscious through
want of adequate oxygen, presence
of noxious agents, or other obstruction
to normal breathing,”

something about my_________
esophagus__________
is killing__________
me________

in my throat
i feel ticklish, funny, pricklish
as if a million wire haired rats
were having
a
holiday

4

Here’s a healthy quote from
the doctor:
“it’s simply odynophagia. kill yourself,
if nothing gets better”,

when i speak my voice
is not my own

rather…

it is a series of scuttling,
crackling,
scraping

“take a few spoonfuls of this
once every few hours”,

pocket the prescription_____
as something______
continues____
to nibble___
at my___

throat

5

once home
I look in the mirror
& crank back
my head––(open mouth)

a pocket of fluff is obscuring
my view
it moves as I breathe––
lumps of various sizes

the tickling is back

my voice box is smothered
by a blanket of
cotton––

i daresay that it is
a bed for something––
a nest

6

“the demons are everywhere.
they piss wherever they damn
well please.”

the man and his words
stem from the
cancer in
his

head

his
psychiatrist

prays to God
& hopes that he’ll
hang himself

with his nonsense

7

you say it happens when
i sleep

“why else does the fluff
get bigger and bigger?”

perhaps something
has made its
way through––

after all

the human mouth is a door
for things other than
food

8

i’ve been told to have developed
a mysterious case––

doctors are struggling
to think of a sound
diagnosis

but the man with ten voices
claims to have a clue

he shouts,
showering my face with
acrid spit:

“subphylum Chelicerata!
phylum, anthropoda!”

which, scientifically speaking,
translates to:

a spider.

Related : The Phonograph’s Voice Like A Keen Spider Skipping Poem

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