God, the original G (Mashup of 3 Seth Rasmussen Originals)

I took no pleasure to egg a blind hermaphrodite to death last Spring;
dissect it with one cut, but there it stands, budding,
typically -just scratchin balls.

I feel what he feels. Between us, a cold veil of air,
but I had to believe in lingering warmth.
Where I’m going, it’s easy.

“Have I been lost inside a dream?”
I asked, knowing I was out of line,
which is almost true.

and though I hate to bear the cold-
shaped halo of rot,
the apple becomes the worm.

If you want to know
I’m all allegory and he is almost real.
Stuck in a slice of film,

the poor solitary segment thinks he’s me.
The film becomes the apple.
I am the worm.