I was born under the lion as he commingled with the snake, but conceived when the dragon pillaged the great scales of their gold. “Who am I?” were my first words; they passed by unanswered.
I heard the words of God as a child, but He has grown silent. The world has blackened in His absence, blackened like rotting flesh left to the flies. “I’m sorry, God. I’m sorry for whatever it is that I’ve done.” But He lied and said he didn’t care.
I would blame my parents, who trace their blood back to Eve’s tainted womb. Then, I would realize that Eve was a soldier for the Revolution, and I would ask her for strength. The world would not be ours, save for that first transgression. Were I there to stop her, I know that I would not: I would bite into that sweet fruit, and throw Paradise away myself.
The Revolution has ruled my life, driven by such hunger. Hunger to see, to know, to touch. And if I could, I would swallow the Earth – the good bits, the bad bits, the plump red muscle, and the decaying skin covered in maggots. I have swallowed my portion of tears as punishment, but the fetters have since been cast aside. I am hungry, and I will eat.
Stab me through the heart; rip my jaw away from my skull. Your foot may be in my mouth, but I will live on. I will ascend and watch the lion dance with the snake. I will see the dragon gingerly calibrate the scales. And when all else is gone, I will laugh as the rat chews at the last virgin’s maidenhead, knowing exactly who I am.