I'm Hanging Out With Insects

I’m Hanging Out With Insects
By Matt Miller
I’m hanging out with insects
They are all spindly and crackly
Joints and shells and pincers and feelers and antennae
Creeping and marching and charging and territorial
Their eyes have a thousand eyes
And they only stare at me
Seeing me a thousand times
Seeing me like I cannot see myself
Seeing between the borders of their vision fields
The expansive cracks in my person
The cracks that look like creases and lines and planes
But really behind them hide caverns
Caverns of tangible blackness
I’m hanging out with insects

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