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