Organ Grinder Monkey

A vampire-based economy
Anesthetic money coats the needle
that pierces the heart, tunnels the spine
yet you don't feel a thing

except maybe a pang in the collapse
of a soul gone numb, hallucinating
choices of free will, with brittle smiles
to cover betrayal of itself

But the stomach knows, it swats against
dollar bills blackening the skin like
mosquitos in an arctic summer,
that slowly drain the body white

Left behind to dream are the husk and bones
encased in amber of banker's green,
Because beating heart and breathing lungs
are in the bowels of the organ grinder