Introjectus Rex
A poem...
With her grip of iron
She still held his loins
Every time he reached
to sever the second umbilical cord
she would step on his testicles
So everyone he meets
must become her second version
He finds religion
in the embodiment of the strength he lacks
Fantasy comes first
the front porch of his mind
is a factory for making adjustments
alterations, hemming, patching
"Do not let things of this world in
before they are made to perfectly fit
my flawless image"
Convinced he was walking in their shoes
he thought he discovered all there was to them
but the dialogue was always really monologue
He never knew anyone
and so he will never know himself
Mother taught him well