Concatenation

grew up a rough n' tumble girliehood, boyishhood, two
but they didn't know
sometimes
couldn't tell the difference
God knew

fuck

wore something tragic, itchy scratchy pleated plaids, Scottish kilts 'cuz i wasn't
slip-on clogs that made clop-clop sounds on marked terror-tories,
was the smelly paki horse wishing delitescence
sigh...complete erasure wasn't possible
brown punching bags were trendy, visibility required

Sir Robert Borden Junior High. 

often sported crooked bangs after grinning chop-chop shears made stereophonic shunning sounds
ears got clipped, blood psycho-delicooed on piliferous skin
spilled crudely through that most torturous of exits when objects incomprehensible jabbed in discreet push ins, push outs

push ins, push outs

yeah, a boy in a girl, girl in a boy, he and she were tightly wound to make we two one, wounded
a freakin' child, only

chee, chee, shame, shame

oh but their snickering n' snorting 'cross the pavements left scars deeper than Great Slave Lake
spitting invective like they never knew their mothers' names
jagged little rocks hurled with hideous speed, sculpting screaming crevices
who would've thought that such ravaging could come from the graceful physics of a perfect pitch

their eyes never lied, sadistic juvenile joys

so i turned the shelter of my hands into fists
ran after these flimsy pawns with the menacing thud thud of the monster in the closet
eclipsed their repellent malignancy with the bright raging wrath of a tits-before-time pre-teen

last of the famous...ha ha

punched, kicked, wrestled, scratched, gouged
this mighty heart showed no mercy
viciousness propelled 'til I could no longer see their dirty buggery disguise
tore their beastly souls asunder

avenging, satisfying a thirst, lust

pressed their immaculate complexions into the thick brown mire
how does it feel, I laughed, laughing long and hard, long and hard
malice in my core, I was like them, not like them

no

a boy in a girl, girl in a boy, he and she were tightly wound to make we two one, wounded,
i cried to the Restorer
hoped for my brothers and sisters, we'd all win this fight
our arsenal, gleaming serpentine swords
we gut-spilled destruction in these remorseless reincarnations, these sad sad granules of humankind
oh, such waste, such waste
they were

'til they were no more. no more. no more.
'til the scars vanished
'til the nothing became something-something
or the girl became the boy, the boy became the girl, two

such were the menacing dreams of the child, whispered into existence with God's ayatul kursi
born in war
born broken
born tainted

born doomed.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tick. Tock.