I dreamed I was awake, and slept through the mediocrity. The mundane slipped from my fingers and habit became cacophony. I broke every bone in my body, and woke to find myself whole. I reveled in my self laceration, then wrote of my eternal soul. At auction it went for a sum, five dollars, six, wait ten! A low price for a little pleasure, a short dream, relaxed, now and then. I am a masochist, a puppeteer of pain. I wear a short leash, then all I do is complain. I sell my soul for a penny, I sold my heart for a dime. And now the only place I belong, is in short angry heartless rhyme.