Like being smothered by a mountain of
moving fingers gouging at your trembling body,
picking and scratching at your ears and eyes trying
to get to your brain and jerk it out of your skull so
they can sand it down and polish it until it gleams.
Then they melt it down and pour it back in through
your ears and then place a tap on the top of your head
so that it can be removed at will in order to conform
with changes in the anthill society.
Then you are placed in a corner of a tunnel, where
you are fed and fed, until your bowels will excrete
nothing but pure, undigested food, and you have
become so obese that your arms and legs have molded
and rotted off. All that remains is a smooth ball, with
a mouth that depends on the gouging fingers to stuff
your face. You are now adapted.