metallic flow

Metal flows through these veins,
Seeping through the tips of my fingers.
This substance does the thinking for me now.
I grow heavier moment-by-moment,
Slowly filling the chambers of my heart.
Meandering hands guide the silver presence to every pore.
My spirit seeks refuge from the metallic mayhem,
Slithering out my eyeballs.
A lifeless luster remains,
To not feel.
To not taste.
To not see.
Once subjective. now subjected.
An oblique object to do the bidding.
A maladroit mass of metal leaps to its pretending.

Note: written awhile ago. thank you.