Vertebrae Heaver

Past lives would have me call myself
A man
But there is no "M" anymore, it is gone
Replaced by ugliness
Senor Martinez, chop down your sweet talk
Save me with your miracle work
Reduce and then deduce the leading article
Dress me up and lift me to where I once was
Somewhere free, somewhere safe
Out of bounds formed by rainwater puddles
Away from swinging doors that just won't sit still
Removed by furtive elevators eager to reflect into
The monetary equivalent of running time
My knees hurt when I bend, my back cracks
Hands turned into leverage tools, turn to dust
Living structures collapse and are duly replaced
By monolithic standstill
One pleading call placed during a strategic point in time
Ignored, refuted, dismissed
Along it, thee
Sisyphus's struggle reminds of what is to be
Shackled by life, bound by obligation, tied by
A delegation of bipeds deciding who gets to be
Under the load, under the knife, sub-human.

Feel free to fret, fret to feel free @zenmotherfucker