Treason busts woods of ancient supplemental growth
As a child, I simmered bone soup in ceramic bowls
Repulsed by the talc that was mummifying my insides
I turned to milk and preferred pants and blood soup from fresh flesh
Familiars swirled about me, guiding my path to the ever-life
I have instinctual fights of territory with my father's wife
who is all the time my mother- a beast I will beat time after time, but will never beat
Myself is regretful, unfair, overpowering, monstrous, petty, scathing, embarrassing,
An artist on the roof screaming narcissism is out of style
I am the only narcissist who can even make that label today
What a fucking liar I am, I am so blasé!
I find myself an aftermath of what I've apparently done
Sometimes I am too late to come
Other times I start to realize I've already gone.
I become a coin of fate, a turn of weather
A positive, a sociopath, an imbecile or a woman
A lesbian or a raging man
I become all of these simultaneously, but sometimes I can pick
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