SECTUMSEPTRA

[atavism]

i've got a whild hair.
it grows in my stomach
aching and sad
worried waiting for the next drop
where all the evil nerves
gnarled and knotted
flex and yank at all their axes
and suck the smooth and tender
basket belly
down and dry
the pain flourishes richly in the
intestines both large
and small
twisting black into the veins
angry and mad

but the trenches have been freshly sod
and roots swell from deep in the mend
to spring a sprig
from it's envelope pod
ingested a watermelon seed perhaps
that was black and fertile
and this small growth is
merely the humble beginning
of a rugged watermelon tree
to rip you apart
from the inside

but for now
it's still cute
like a young brute of a dog
with floppy velvet ears
and purina puppy breath
and it symbolizes not the angle of impending doom
but something alternate and hopeful
new life
living within itself
within your mucky grub sac
a part of you that lives
that grows
like the anti horcrux
and rather a helpful addition
the proverbial thumbs up
your personal
good to go.