Mouthful of Precious Stones

Fed through the teeth machine. Row after row of dysmorphic minerals*
All the things that I have seen, drowning in my reflection.
Bleed from sores that reach out to everyone in the room.
Touched by sepsis, cradled in a mountain of bone.
I pretend not to notice that we belong in the same room.
We touch the same door handle and drink from the same fountain.
I'm repulsed. Sickening drive to cultivate loathing.
I dishonest nod and grin as we pass in the streets.
Eater! Nashing pit full of bracing. Tangled in a tortured sickness.
Crossing through those pearly gates that exit to that special place.
We belong in the same room. Smiling in my reflection.
Bound tight by nerve endings and veins; Wound just like nooses.
To dissuade my confusion.
We touch the same door handles and drink from the same fountain.
I am repulsed by this mouthful of precious stones.