Emerald scimitar, the best of friends, firm in the scabbard on my left, and the unfiltered alcohols of the warrior poet bottled in the found flask of old ship-wrecks hang to my right; I have laid with Comandanta Ramona, beautiful woman; I have admired her body in the light of the Chiapa sun: I have slept with a goddess and I no longer take any fucking prisoners – fuck your quiescency, your serenity, your passivity: this blade is sharper than even the devils tongue, which I often dance upon with abandon; depravity by my side, I have cohorts – madness, intifada! Heed my strenghts, I shall, and hearken my weaknesses, I do... believe it... I am no self-praising fool: through my ability to swell my ego in a blowfish-like manner, I am the enemy of the smallest of needles, how they can burst my beautiful bubble... I cling my sword in victory, raise my glass in the successes of bloody battles; I pay prostitutes with the bounty of pillaged gold and pleasuresome as it is to me, now harlots and sellers of all lewd company walk streets embellished with the luxurious jewellries of blue-blooded duchesses, and I have granted them the dignity of kingly courts, with the touch of my steel-bearing hand – shall not a woman stand on the pedestal erected by the beaten hands of thralls, given that she is the daughter of the divine? I drink the blood of Eve; I smear the menses of empresses as war paint on my face...
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