A teratoma of the mind
Lurks beneath the skin of thought
Quivering with the apprehension
Of a hidden world untouched
By the harsh blue light of Day:
A thing of teeth and claws
And dark dark hair.

It grows and stirs
And quickens with Power;
Pressure building against
The untrepaned Father’s skull;
Pushing at the eyes that see
Everything under Heaven:
His own reflected Glare.

Pulsing with ecstasy at opening
A tainted inner eye to all
The Things outside of what passes
For our meagre feint at existence,
It cuts into the veiny membrane
Of What Shall Not Be Questioned:
This "world" of soil and Lies.

Hark, the feral angels keen
As black nails pierce and grasp
Rending apart the veiny placental
Meat which nourishes and imprisons
All the imprisoned and nourished
Peoples of the world of Light
Who thought they knew Athene ...

Who now bursting forth
From that hoary skull
Keens afresh with angels all around
Who see their chance to strike and kill
As the harsh blue light of Day
Burns away Her teeth and claws
And cuts away Her dark dark hair.