Poem on Asterion. The Lord of Suffering
“Free verse” in two parts. Asterion (the Minotaur)

There you are Not yet grown up, your horns not yet developed Your head of even bigger proportions… You’ll never catch up like the other boys do Tied up in a premonition An omen of cotton, or breadcrumbs You learned to rest squatting, and it’s like Your body forcing a hug on you Years after When the walls were humid, and winter incumbent It still felt good, to wrap your human vest around itself And your beasty head just enough Hidden inside your knees Why do you know That it hurts more when no one is there To kiss your scar? Yet, it numbs quicker Your eyes, black of nature reflecting Years of suffering. You, the star, the start, The price of sorrow, of suffering. Which one was your beastly side anyway When if the ones you ate Ate
they did not receive this loathing What is the difference of being fed virgins and heroes Heroines and youth Or lamb, or beef… I get you, oh ancestral brother. I would too Eat my limbs and not my mind I would too Feed on stained consciousness And not on nature. But you didn’t Know better, or the difference between nature and nature All your wisdom was in sadness and rage Anger and hunger. And why not? Isn’t all the rest superfluous?
Like the lion was a lion made not To adorn fast feet I was not made by the abuser and the white beast For your crowning Me the horned and tailed bastard You the seed of legacy How dare you enter the premises of my Suffering. How dare you play with my mind Bastard. A mule of whore and beef You fucking crowned coward Coming to count my despair With tricks and fear of dark spaces How can he be a hero When he was never lost? My condemnation the vengeance of gods The betrayal of an adoptive bastard Zoophile couple of worms With whom I share my softest skins, crucible torso, sacred bones A mother’s milk Or the milk of my father’s daughters Legacy. Athens must burn If you were ever king Murderous hero. Raised by a father Star-written to be stone and words Washed in white by time deleting The veal’s blood Theseus. There is nothing else Of you I want to know Son of a father Not son of beast This is what your people see — Of me — just a body Trapped, yet misunderstood F*** you all really. And f*** you Theseus, Aegeus, Minos and my mother F*** you all


