I wove myself a hammock
out of my own personal veins
I wove myself a hammock
and I lived in it
I can't sleep every night
sleep doesn't come
I have a list of phones
line by line
I touch him
with a finger yellow from nicotine
I live in my hammock
he is hanging on the central square of the city
every evening I wait for what the wind will bring
let it finally pollinate
all human flaws
let it fill my eyes with glass shards
br/>it's so hard to be an ascetic today
so I spit spit spit
I spit