Modernist Perspective Poem by Paige Nielsen

The fear is absolute:
faces pale as the milk of death,
the inverse of the milk of human kindness.
A haunting sorrow binds the wounds,
enslaving us in its hollowest embrace.
This poem is a metaphor,
but I don’t know why.
I don’t know anything.
These days right is wrong and wrong is right.
Is this someone’s idea of a joke?
Well, buddy, I’m not laughing.
I’m retching in protest,
a one-girl revolution.
Can anybody save us now?
(I doubt it.)
We’re all chained by propriety
and blinded by society,
trading kisses for pennies
and chopping off our toes
(the latest fashion) .
This aftermath of civilization
pulverizes decency and honesty-
penalty box for you, dude,
sit out this round!
Hey now, don’t be like that.
Here, take some false eyelashes and a needle for your pain.
You feel dirty but mud isn’t dirt-
inside you’re squeaky clean.