Lizards With Scissors

A Poem

Photo by Rayia Soderberg on Unsplash

I went to get a haircut today —
all I wanted was a trim
now I’m strapped in
to a squeaky leather chair
with a collar tightened
around my neck —
I can’t call this human
look what I’ve become
an armless, legless
polyester slug —
the stark realisation
of my pathetic situation
in the reflection
staring back at me
doing its best to comfort me
with the thinnest paper grin
worried lines will allow.

The knives are out
hacking away at
my self-confidence
with satanic speed
and capitalist efficiency
I could scream
or cry
I could piss
out my eyes —
but the lizard with the scissors
keeps on asking
about my life
and it’s not every day
I get to talk about myself —
maybe they’re kind
of nice and oh fuck
what have they done —
what do you think Ric?
it looks terr-iffic …