I'm taking classes. Being born in between heat coils, wrapped like
bacon, freaked out of the lights. I liberate my nation through quiet
grassroots means, through timid committee meetings, my Bastille lived
on in silent peace, untouched like museums. Taught how to speak by
friendly monks. I was born against bricks, came out running. I wasn't
good at tennis nor at model-making, so I began my life in the theater.
I am actually Legion. I bent wild cobra on my knee, spanked him,
corrected him. After my kabuki studies, I enjoyed steaming plates for
the passengers. For the finale, I emerged in the cluster of noodles,
pressing my face from the wet wiggly surface. I looked south. While
fishing, the hook entered my chest and wrapped around the essence, the
lion's share of my organ. This is considered to be the traditional
way.