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Transformer

Sure, I’ll tuck in my shirt
And bite my lips until
They’re stuck together by blood and spit
I’ll wrap a tie around my throat
Like a stifling noose
And boorishly parade myself
On a quarterly death march

Sure, I’ll twist my brain to that of
The narcoleptic replicants
Asleep amid the new American dream
I’ll wrap myself in a muted gray
And earth tone version of Old Glory
If that’s what’s required to build this empire
Brick by human brick

Sure, I’ll cover my eyes
With wool slashed away from my own body
As I am now of the flock
I’ll wrap my arms around
The blade cutting our payroll
And dry hump the cold steel of progress
Like a masturbatory sock

Sure, I’ll sign your paper
That renames me as six digits
And an alphanumeric password
I’ll wrap myself in Faustian flames
Like a furnace
Burning away flesh and individualism
As I climb a ladder to integrity
And catastrophe

A consumer hoping not to be consumed
A daydreamer holding onto dreams