Big Bad

Turning into Frankenstein’s Monster over here.
Nauseatedly green, pallid & clearly queer.

Mismatched components rough-sewn to make up the whole.
Strange muscle fiber under patchwork brain control.

Like composite furniture, there are extra screws.
Two there in the neck lets me recharge on a fuse.

I retrieve all the pieces that fell by the way.
Assembly required…each & every fucking day.

I do fear my end; when storms knock out the power.
In that case, I could fly tin kites from high towers.

See…being a monster holds some security.
Folks have always been fearful & ever will be.

Small minds need villains so their small worlds are a prize.
They can’t be free or rare; so they hate us…surprise.