The Lifeline

Send your body to its grave and behave.

Grasp your intelligence like a frayed rope dangling.

Your skin is like leather and your skull like stone,

a perfect rendition of man at its finest,

and oh,

will you

be fined 

for it.

Narcissus befits himself with beauty, of course

but he is the only one staring at his mirror.

Your Narcissus, too, blooms by its own reflection--

you pay your own debt to desire and affection.

Read a book,

pay your rent,

watch tv,

breathe a breath,

that's all you wish.

Live a normal,

privileged,

American life.

You don't care that your skin is poisonous,

or that your words

sting

like death.

by Julian Fanelli