with..

skin like a
saran wrap
cloak, little

holes invisible
but still
creating
a stifling
seal against
growth, or mould.

with eyes like
sharpened glass
window panes,
shattered
with stones
with bricks
with heavy
hits.

hands like
foreign objects
hanging heavy
but still slight
clutching

hair like
loose threads
tangled around
and under
in and out
so that
pulling one
would lead to
unraveling a

heart like
molten mercury
encased in
Lucite,
swirling and

silvery
almost the
image of a

mouth like
silk covered
spikes, each
open and
close
clanking about
in a
dull, clothy
noise, heralding

a voice
like distant
thunder and
dissonance,
each mischord
hammering on
strings

tied to you.

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