injecting me with electrodes,
wrapping my treasures in barbed wire
pooling my blood into an advertising program,
monitoring my cells for signs of revolt,
nailing me to a cardboard cross
and a defecated slogan.
Waking to the next dream, I was whisked
through imagistic air conditioning,
spat through duct after duct
chute after chute mastered by molecules,
beds flying from dissection stations
to reassemblage stations
calibrating with a snicker
monolithic to a fault forensic soul.
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