Hanging Above Me § THE HANGED MAN

➰HANGING ABOVE ME➰ I saw that twisting, shifting griiiin, Leering from my ceiling agaaaain. Black ink, rotten rust teeeeth, Gnashing constantly down at meeee. (Why does he hang while I sleep?....) Inside there is no light... Dead legs dangling, bedside. Glossed milky eyes, bloodless and dry-staring at the back of my head, Exhausted cries, musn't try, can't meet those glossy, milky, dead lights, leering at me agaaaain. (Why does he hang where I sleep?....) why won't he leave? It's just another grey cold day, Another repeat of the same. Relooping every day iced bone toes, brushing up against my neck... Occasionally... Always there, above my bed, My contorted twisted marionette. Dead-rot clots behind his eyes, Frozen lifeless staring into mine... Always silent even when the sun has risen, His knee bumps into me walking into my kitchen. Grabbing for some toast, Brushing up against the bloody dampness of his clothes, A foot above my head, where ever I go... He's always there, always staring hanging close. Ohh, he's an almost perfect version of me, He never fights, never screams, Never lies, never cheats, (He's just hanging in there, always staring...) Right into me... He's got my back from the top, Whether I want him to or not. Grim reminders, throughout the day, Vertebrae snapping while I try to prey. why won't he LEAVE! same height... same clothes... same habits... but all happiness corroded... Thinking back, to that soul mate I had, Her laugh, illuminated my path, Her eyes, permeated my breaths, Her mind, collaborated with everything... Until the day life stole her bright away Suspending us into place, Leaving the best of me hanging... Dangling, until my living rot does the same... We're suspended at the end, when she died... The hanging dead, dangling over the rest of my life. Always there, above my bed, My contorted twisted marionette. Dead-rot clots, behind his eyes, Frozen, lifeless into mine... Always there, even when the sun has risen, His knee bumps into me, walking into my kitchen. Grabbing for some toast, Brushing up against the bloody dampness of his clothes, A foot above my head, where ever I go... He's always there a maggot puppet with a vacant stare, hanging above my mirror... He never fights never screams, Never lies never cheats... (He's just hanging in there...) Staring at me... Why does he hang where I sleep?.... why won't he leave?.... Let me rot rot with my dead memories...