I feed my baby
napalm
From the
loincloth I wore
When I tried to
get out;
I mix
blood let from my eyes
With virgin
gasoline, clear,
Clear as
glacial ice,
And as
fearsome as its steam,
With
two grimy hands for their
Clotting vat, and for me
To
siphon later.
He’ll be a strong one.
He’ll leave The
Titan Hell.
When it
swallowed me up
Hind-side first I swore
That I would never
Come out of anything
The way that I went in,
That I would blow a
Gaping hole in nature,
And
take myself as sustenance.
Mommy fed me
veggies,
And Daddy fed me
beef;
They were making me into
A
Big Boy, they’d say,
A
Man before the world,
And surely
too much longer!
I ate it up,
like I loved it.
But who wants to be a
man,
Weak,
virtuous –
duplicitous?
Every man wants to be a bomb.
That’s why I feed my baby
napalm.
Ouraboros has no business
With the
nut of my fruits, the core
Of the man, shed from the
Man,
Who has nothing but
Decades of
Rosaries and a
valueless recreation
To tread his
unaccountably
Over-ripened dreams.
That
Pathetic Serpent will leak
The contents of its
shameless stream
From
Tract Zero of its originally
Perfect form, left to wither
By the sides of those alike the
Passive, the
mild, and the
firm.
My baby may be killed,
But so shall his oppressor.