ID

   
father does not rule for long  
he is the wicked child's plaything  
id's robot slave  
a sacrificial money machine  
he is baby ghoul dressed  
in a costume of culture  
regulated by the iron fist of war  
the world souls industry  
 
he's made to ware a uniform  
with little silver spiked buttons  
drawn rigid to the throat  
windpipes nag  
and cruel shoes shinning  
decorated in a suit of fire
that feels like a shredded hair shirt
with a power choker tie  
and a nifty haircut  
costumed  
a real cloths horse  
 
he seeks the approval of the sold out  
and had his wings pulled off  
long before he had whiskers  
another workin stiff  
buying his freedom  
one insult at a time  
 
fathers loyalty rests with the child  
that's where evil pleasures lurk  
first comes the devil  
daddies real father  
he is  
the old man  
chaos his name  
a bodiless monster  
a disorganized dream work  
with seething expectations  
a somatic octopus  
a grabbing insatiable hunger bucket  
 
daddy was born tomorrow  
to get along and go along  
to listen and obey  
a reluctant inmate  
 
daddy says  
you gotta suffer  
so you don't have to suffer  
 
we all end up  
sucked dry  
like bone moths  
 
cowards huddled  
or homeless dread  
and quickly dead