I'm A Monster But I'll Live

Mozzarella cheese-dreams slide down my face,
thoughts sealed away in a GoldenEye Facility,
a ghost tasked with moving a calcified body,

leaving my love in the well to grab a drink,
eating the crumbs from the passing parade
of the piss-dripping gut-thrusting Santa-imposters.

Inside the figures of archdukes and fathers, rats
pull levers and sweat fear and trembling,
starting again in a wave of overdraft fees,

trapped in defective, humanoid bodies, begging
for any wordless shot of flight from pain, gasping
for any new form of euthanasia. Begin! Begin!