Puppet Show

Pencil thin lines of graphite
Colored lead weights,
Are pulling my limbs,
Torso, lungs, and heart
As I dance, I dance,
In your private puppet show.

My eyes are oiled,
Turning smoothly
Back and forth
Without one rusted squeak
As I look at you, I look at you,
With my marionette smile.

My glass jaw made of wood,
Chattering my teeth
Like some old hand
Knocking on my coffin door
As you tangle my emotions, my emotions,
Around your bent and twisted fingers.

On my master's leash,
I am chained and manipulated
While I pine for meaning
And flesh to call my own
As the termites gnaw and tear, gnaw and tear,
At my wormwood and petrified bones.