Cancerous Sonnet for a Tumor
I shall collect as many cancers as my body gladly
holds. Let the tumors run wild in an orgy rife
of death and living decay. I’ll take no chemo,
watch no diet, opt for no invasive surgeons. To writhe in
agony of the body’s own consumption of self
is my calling and I heed the grim toll, collected
from my flesh in pounds. Survival of the fittest, and
the winner here is obvious— not medicine, nor
therapy, but black crawling cells devouring the weak.
Strong enough to put religion back in most, they thrive.
I will take the glory upon me; I call it by every means
discovered as of late, and do so with no god if only
to prove the uncompromising Darwinian truths,
eaten, black, pontificating from the deep velvet closet.
. Let me be an example so hideous,
. you’ll not want to touch me again.