This is for the phallic monument built on a foundation of female teeth. This is for the patriarchal idiocy that confuses a biological urge with a mandate to govern. This is for the leaking vessel of senile lust in the White House. This is for the walking autopsy held together by the starch of state secrets and the grey fluid of the unprotected. He doesn’t just sniff the hair of the future. He licks the sweat from the brows of the condemned to see if the meat is seasoned enough for the slaughter. This is for the geriatric infection presiding over a hospice of empire. This is for the dark bile of every drone strike swirling in his gut like a toxic weather system. He is the grandfather of the mass grave and you are the ones who keep the oxygen flowing into his necrotic lungs. This is for the glowing colostomy bag of the television. It leaks the image of the celebrated predator into your living room. This is for the fighter in the centre of the ring. A god for the boys who want to be ...