the Silver Wheel

The needle sharp point of the piercing gun breaks the skin and leaves a hole within.  Aches, pains and a silver star shaped body jewel ready to wear.  No more nose.  The world knows of the horror within.  The tattoo needle scratching the skin.  Quick to put the color on and make the scars permanent.  Wearing the paint life til death do we part.  A five star hotel in a forty year old man's kitchen.  He can make and bake.  He's a freakin' magician but I haven't fallen for the spell.  I look upon him with star spangled eyes.  An infinite patriot that wants a star burned into her flesh and nailed to her nose.  Arianrhod pursues and moves the wheel of starlight around as the moon dances down to the ground.  What does this celestial wheel have to do with my outer appearance?  I'll wear it til this animated flesh moves no more.  The sickle and the ice.  A creep reaper, out to torment the most innocent of dreamers.  Plant life.  A plain life on a shelf.  In the penetralia of my mind, my psyche, ganglion, I squirm and worm out of the worst scenarios.  Face your fear.  You are an awful excuse for a person.  Swing, Rataczyck.  He was the last immortal of Vinland, returning to his home of ice and fire.  His volcano blew to welcome him home.  Origami limbo.