Every day I push myself through this world

Bending and creaking

Ejecting splinters so small 

Not even I can see them.

 

Every month I pull the wiry wigged head

Of humanity's shine to its own bastardization 

Closer to my breast 

Hoping its nuzzle will be less coarse. 

 

Every pay day it feels soft,

For a moment 

Then looks up at me with wooden teeth

And coughs up a cackle only lying dreams

Could spit.