A finger simulator where you live as a finger
And do only those things which fingers are permitted to do
For twenty years, so that when you are finally released
The thought of living as other than a finger is so horrific
You cut the rest of your body off
A stomping of you in a laborious dance
Wherein they wear your foot skin as a shoe
A combine that harvests your dreams
And marinates them in incepted traumas
Making there be no home in your memory
Where you can live in
Should the present be treating you unkindly
A hook that brings internal organs
Into the exterior of the body
Strictly for pain purposes, beating, say,
The liver with a length of rope
The spraying of your back with bactic acid
A machine that tells you the truth about
The things your life has been conducted
As an elaborate means of avoiding