The ice was incredible thin, a forgettable thing,
Floating high like you feel, half an edible in,
but hear it clink so soft, sweet tongue on my lips
Then, my turn—quick—it’s an Oedipal sin.
“Ooh, sorry, my love, for that habanero sting—
Fire in your mouth, for denying Nero’s cup.”
I remember how he toasted, beckoning, “Drink up!”
I can still hear how he boasted when I passed out on the rug.
Begging your forgiveness for the fuck up.
Curses down the gullet, they got sucked up.
Down the flowing river they call Acheron,
I commandeered the scary ferry, ousting Charon.
Fleeing down the winding Styx a thousand miles long.
—three canines joined as one is a triathlon.
History names me as Brittanicus,
Infamy brands the emperor’s hand in this.
My young blood ain’t never crossing Oceanus.
“Ooh, sorry, my love, for that habanero sting—
Fire in your mouth, for denying Nero’s cup.”
Begging your forgiveness for the fuck up.
Curses down the gullet, they got sucked up.
Infamy brands the emperor’s hand in this.
My young blood ain’t never crossing Oceanus.