The bite of cold metal

Breaks the skin,

I flood the vial in red

And it’s for my own good

When my polluted heart races

–

The grey morning’s fade fast

Inside this sterile machine,

Crushed within its whirring parts

Bearing a soulless sheen

–

Tapped out by noon

When the lab has had its last morsel,

When my pocked flesh and bones

Are ill-fitting and tired

–

I take the scenic route home

To reclaim myself,

From the hollowed out stranger

In the review mirror