Use

So this is what I'm reduced to Obsession with the process Pushed to pride in worthless things Stumbling into eastbound trains I'm caught in their littered slats I'm eaten alive by filthy archways Crusted with soot and leavings The tufted hundreds gather 'round And stare with eyes like sovereign rings But I can withstand a curling No camouflage No truck I travel up between the cracks Bodies form other crevices There is another there, along from me Looking around, but mostly aside Paper fills the seats between Hair drapes down over Some new form of relentless inactivity Beaten down into idiocy Putting into correct perspective my suffering I was concerned for my welfare So I cut it off with a knife Clicking Spanishly And did I mention Jesus? Anxious children wait in rows I'll keep the trophy for myself