Heath Brougher

Stones and Spiders

Fevered with sleep deprivation from the spider
in my brain.

Its crooning spawns epileptic eye twitches.
If I close my fleshy blinders as hard as possible,
I can feel my popcorn eyes electrically vibrating.
My stone, my brain cyst, throws me spirals when I need stillness.

The spider crawls through my head on a web splayed
behind my left eye.

Sleep is impossible. Ungraspable.

From a nuclear womb Three Miles wide
to my casket,
likely already on display
in some morgue's pallid shopping room.

The spider will crawl. The eyes will sizzle
as this inevitably reigns through my human experience.