Miles of Swine

I took my red-eye hangnail robot pill
Took it to the market and purchased your approval
With a grin that seemed to say,
In fretful agitated human derby,
“I have no idea what’s going on”

I passed sneering locals with your blade
Sheathed gracefully into my own skull
A humble gesture of mutual torpor
So they could safely brush me away
Into the loving jaws of places far removed

I took my vivisection to the head
Carefully removing the nightmares
You couldn’t have possibly given me
When I was five and beautiful
When behind every curtain lay a horror
Waiting to be perceived by me

I took your lack of anything
And painted my own vision of emptiness
Into the yawning ducts of your not-eyes
Smoothed out my fears on your porcelain
Skin, dedicated to inspiring in me
Nothing remarkable whatsoever

I took my lockjaw and bloody truncation
At the hands of that solemn gash
Nature’s defense against itself
Seen squinting lasciviously back at you
In the reflections in the eyes of others
And of course those of mirrors

I took what I gave
What was left and piled it into a little box
With trinkets and photographs that never were
And arranged it like a soup in mild disbelief
To think, the little of me that I gave
Was never enough to sustain the beast