I walked in the green sea of mystery and
scavenged for a light. However, a metal spoon had
carved away at my eyes— its emptiness
swallowed me. So there I wandered with my head
chopped off‒ no mind of my own. I am
no use to the world. I am
just a baby manufacturer‒
an oven of some sort. I have no ecstasy,
no ambition flaming in my eyes. All that
belongs to me is the beat box inside my chest,
my bones and vanilla ice cream flesh,
my imprisoned soul, and my
disturbing dreams.