I pledge allegiance to the hag
of the United States of demolition.
Precision tuned and wandering
through murky vales of cultural deficiency,
my body vibrates
with a sudden urge to implode.
This load I’ve taken upon myself,
this red-and-white striped drapeau
with the cosmos in a corner,
is an undue burden, a danger
to itself and others.
Who would have guessed
that a phantom could possess
both weight and density?
If this be my destiny, I’d like to trade it
for another, more liberated one.
Perhaps with a better soundtrack?
I’d even settle for a laugh track.
But there it is, that moldy drapeau,
still clinging to my back,
gnawing at my spinal cord,
trying to infiltrate my nerves…