Puppet Master

As I sit on this high chair in this cold stainless steel laboratory

The White Coat approaches me, floating like air

I demon gliding in its domain.

But this is not the time for me to look at such things with such care


She smiles at me

Teeth brown and crooked.


Yet I give her access to my brain.

For she is the White Coat

I am the slave


Not too far from Anne’s acquaintances

Only this time the camps and chambers are built mentally


She strokes my head

Why do I feel like Gretel about to be pushed into the oven?

But it’s my mouth that is the oven

And this little pill that is my demise

A veneer so spotless

Shining, like a Barbie still displayed in her packaging

Her smile becoming more menacing

Like a beautiful Jinn


Smiling and laughing, till the nerves of others grow thin


But in the depth of her eyes you see the darkness within


The large bubbling cauldron of life’s past sins and present insecurities.

That makes her heart burn till it is crippling

all the leftover personality and light that resonates from her mind’s kitchen


Caught up in a spell that not my own.


Yet I feel my heart burn and voice and laughter grow.


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