He enjoys all the wrong transgressions.
Pure and simple aggression
just doesn’t cut the mustard,
though it cuts through skin,
sinew and bone with relative ease.
The detritus he leaves
as he weaves
through the street is well… Shocking.
He has a noxious aura
whirling about his head,
a halo parody to scare the passersby
into submission. I sometimes
like to envision him
with a tree up his ass,
diverting the flow of blood
to its branches, sucking its host dry
before he has a chance
to do the same to the world.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 