Remove the screws. It hurts being pinned down
as a monster who didn’t even create herself.
I’m creative with my made-up stains, with my bloody words
to lubricate mechanical refrains.
At least it’s a sexy assembly line.
Lying on the workbench like a work-in-progress.
I could probably make 25¢ if I cashed in
my latest bottle, but I must resist the urge
to break it first. Breaking glass can be so musical
like fairy tale windshield glitter.
Princess slippers implanted with shards.
Princess implants sharded with glass.
I must I must I must
unfetter my wrists; deface the urge
to be a pretty cyborg, a screwy illusion.
Even when my head is in a vise,
I am privy to an inner resistance.
I possess my own implements.
I have built my own mutant musical instruments.
Emptying the spit valve was part of the song
until I drank it down to hollow vessel.
A blown glass bottle of cream soda
can’t melt the rusty hinges on my tongue.
Am I just unfazed or have I been razed?
Can I be raised to new levels with extra oomph,
with extra-special gears & pulleys,
or will I be phased out? Excessive product
swept up from a factory floor like wispy little
wood shavings, one step away from sawdust.
Why can’t I turn into splinters beneath assembly line feet?
Why am I an edible puppet in my dream of lust?
Cold confection impaled on my own wooden stick.
Creamsicle filling oozing between my lips. I must I must
splinter in the midst of the gooey disillusion.
My scritchy tune spills out of the voicebox—
my fake rubies infiltrate abandoned settings.
Warehouse settings. Tool shed settings. Costume closets.
with gaudily-jeweled mirrors, with gilded frames.
Sickly-sweet perversion in the glass, floating on additives
& preservatives. I just might imbibe formaldehyde
if it smelled pretty enough. Oh those horror movie beauty queen
disguises. Oh those pluck and slash bouquets.
Crooked little props that gleam creepily
from cracked cream soda bottles.
Take them to the appropriate receptacle.
Take me to my logical extreme.
25¢ transformed into a gumball machine ring
for another dismembered lady finger.
