I am an experiment. I am
an example, a diagram,
a poster on the walls between us
with little arrows at my head
that explain the brain, explain
the process of causing pain,
little arrows of birds around
my head when the daylights
are nearly knocked out of me,
little arrows that come across
stumbling fields of science
and hit their target.
I am a target. I am a chicken.
I am on this side of the token
to go into the machine for
cheap entertainment.
No offers, no sudden moves,
no prize at the end.
From now on, the days aren’t
sealed for freshness, or like
an envelope that gives you
help, they are sealed like fate.
I am a broken promise from
the family tree, broken like bread.
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