a [bad word] blast from the mountaintop
as the man in robes descended upon my mother's house.
speaking a tongue, i thought it was my father's...
it was not.
he handed me a box made of stone
inside a bug, made of wood.
and, as per his [bad word] 
i put it in my mouth.
however, once there,
i found it crawled its way
deep inside my eyeball.
i reached in with my hand to retrieve it,
but once there i found i required a branch,
or a stick, or a hand of wood to retrieve such a wooden bug.
my hand, made of flesh, was useless for such a task.
and so, i retreated to the mountains,
the land of my father,
with the bug stuck so deep inside my eye
i could not see
and my hand stuck so deep inside my throat
i could not speak
there, blind and hungry,
i pondering the wrongs done to me
by the man in robes.
he had tricked me,
but this would not be the end of my story.
and so, with my return,
i had learned that for every entrance,
an exit
for every birth,
a death.
the man in robes had unjustly entered my life,
and so he would exit it.
(don't blame the sea
if you can't find the seashore)
i walked...