weeping sheep

He captures me
Each breath I take
Held in a jar
Each move I
Make
Must I collect
These lazy pearls
Of mine
For his bacon
Feeds his swine
My battered tongue
My collected lip,
The steps with
Chain
A rogue now trips
And are there faces
In this glass
He's stitched my
Tongue
I know not class
But to blubber
My bubble words
The empty shingle
A dead man's cry
Am I me
Myself
Or I
This cripple threat
Of ghosts who weep
These cancered limbs
Which idly creep
Look for heels
With all their stems
I've lost my feet
I count to ten
The sheep they
Weep.