i can tell
i am not the same
as i was
before
new skin
same scars
the smile
doesn’t fake itself
quite like
it used to
all the dull aches
have taken to
screaming
my eyes
are more sensitive
to the
light
have i grown
more disillusioned
or more in touch
with myself
as the humanity
sloughs off
the monster
is all that remains
the mask
grafted to my skull
the desire
flash fries my soul
in becoming
lesser than
my true potential
shimmers
a carny side show
of one
destined to be alone
in this rickety wagon
surrounded
by specimens
in glass jars
there is one
fitted perfectly
for my
contortionist heart
my horned skull
picked clean
by the beetles
polished
with fine sand
left on display
as a warning
to children
to heed
the words
of their parents
the words
of their god
for a shiny nickel
you can see
what was once
a man
now
a bitter curiosity
on the long road
home