when i spilled onto this earth,
i was born with a human head
and a mane
no one thought anything strange about this
of course
not so strange to have a mane
i was just ahead of the curve
(which would not be a trend)

i grew and so did my mane
it blossomed bushily
i got my name
and, when the first fist arrived at my ribcage,
i got my first fang

sulfurous and shaking
rank marlboro breath
reeking from sorry bones he called teeth
the first of many came
and showed me that my human head
was soft
resilient
and surprisingly springy
bouncing with less pain than i thought
off of banisters
and landings
(ironically named the moment you land on one,
don’t you think?
but i digress)

must have been from all that bouncing
that my human head began
to shift
into something else
but it was made real the moment
those haunted knuckles knocked on the door to my heart
my jaw snapped
like my mind
and i bit
just bit
deep and visceral
his glazed eyes wide
with surprise
maybe fear
(although not for long
before the first was joined
by the second
but
still)
as i sailed away through the air
about to bless a landing with its purpose
i saw the arc
monument of my malicious maw
broken into skin
an insidious smile
but not that of a child
my head was a lions now
as my follicles foresaw
on my zeroth day

i was eight when i got my horns
it was surprising actually
third week of third grade
prismatic fissures of light
creating colorful schisms
in the asphalt of the church’s parking lot
i drank in the bittersweet view
as my face fell toward it
my travel sponsored by another boy
more sadism than sense
and two years past the rest
a fact never languished on for long

as most trophy hunters do,
he inspected his ****
a little too much hubris
about a little thing he just did
my chubby form rose
like Dracula from his coffin at dusk
stiff and unyielding
despite the protestations of my body below
and delivered my forehead to his own
the eponymous number of times
face newly painted in a scarlet shade
half blood below the skin
half above
he said you’re crazy
i didn’t know he was right, you see?
so that statement very much offended me
and so i added one to my quota and left
the nuns told me not to be so stubborn
not to hurt other kids
Jesus would turn the other cheek, they said
but Jesus also turned up dead
they said i was stubborn as a goat
my hair wild and unkempt
canines glistening wetly with blood
and, as if to suggest it knew what a goat was,
a **** on my scalp split open
just a bit more
just enough for sable spirals to rush forth

i was thirteen when i got my venom