The Millennium Bite

Socially awkward, Freak Show

Penguin of a Puddleglum fan,

The silver chair strikes again,

Transfiguring boys into men.

I’m a freak. I remember a mother’s tense, silver bullet expression for her baby in the primary school’s Principal office. One hour of twenty-four. I was punished, however the retribution of a mother’s justice will continue to co-write my sour sketches. Three stitches of blood. The Principal’s concern? Mysteriously like Odin, he divined the runes of expression and empathy. My mum later discovered my transparent memory through my art-book journal. 

Nothing happened. I was only ever suspended. Principals rewarded wellness of bitten children. Percentage of a propensity in one hour of twenty-four. Intelligence sped up the twenty-six years with latent Pestilence. War increased from other mothers as an orgy of Famine for its premium in Death. A risk increased as life accelerated into metal machines. My smile in a reflection, I’m gavelled by Creep, Viva La Vida, Misery and Melancholy Hill as my freak shark teeth remember. 

It was the last mother when I walked from the Hells to Earth. White man’s privilege. A man, I thrusted myself back in the Hells, but my redeeming saviour Jesus Christ walked me out again.