My brain is a wheelchair
And people think I am flying
Over cities and wastelands
Jungle gyms and green public pools
I assume the role of deformity
I am my very best Judas
Because I am lazy and can walk with the rest of them
My heart is deformed and dumb
And perfect people pity it
They hold it tight and translate
Its mumblings and tantrums
Into innocent sermons
I feel bad for my heart too
It should have been thrown off a cliff
Like the ancients used to do
My hands are plastic machines
And I fear them more than God
They scratch me in my sleep
They poke holes in my stomach and my faces
But worst of all
They write letters that show people
places I’ve never dared to be.