When you’re inside of that thing,
Oozing your vapors out its catastrophic edges and
Thinking of it lasting in angry fortitude
After you’re dead
Well you kick and flail,
Speak in gibberish and
Make a helicopter with your shirt
Over your head
But now that metal thing outside of you
Has incurred some collateral damage,
Your lobster’s pinchers have
Turned
To a mixture of
What we all are and
You don’t want to hurt them because
You see your reflection in them too.