He lays on the table, unable to move.
Awake and aware and scared,
eyes rove around the room
frantically looking for something to find but
They open him, painlessly and wordlessly
extricating, cataloging the contents of his soul.
Each item is lovingly labeled, exposed in the harsh light
before being laid down next to him while
he watches, captive and captivated.
Silent screaming as they remove the wretched wraith
black as soot and twice as sordid,
it writhes horribly around seeking freedom but
they chain it; tamed for now.
Stunned staring as they excavate the light;
bright white and effervescently evocative,
evanescence of doubt, fear, worry, pain.
Empty now, he is floating directionless;
unburdened and unbuoyed; he can move.
Numb now, unmotivated, nothing to prove.
He watches listlessly as
they carelessly cram the contents of his soul
into a thin casing,
like a goddamn hot dog.
Within the casing,
the wraith wraps itself around the light,
smothering it, feeding on undeserved ecstasy.
The empty boy looks on, unable to care.
They pin him down with painful restraints,
peel him open, push in the package.
He can feel it there, deadened but present.
No longer unbuoyed and unburdened,
Is nothing better than pain?