Back in the beginning, when Art wasn’t winning,
He didn’t know that the city was surviving
On the blood pumping through him
Till they stuck him, and then realized
That the city made him a victim.

Millions of people growing, a city on his back
Digging into his skin, and trying to tap into his veins,
they tapped into his cells, and rang bells on
Trains into his veins,
They weren’t poisoning him on purpose
But the city on his back started to hurt him,

As he realized that they were beginning to take him over
He could tell, because they moved to his shoulder
And the people started different nations
In hopes of starting different civilizations.
And people warred over each piece of exposed skin,

And then the fighters fought, and then began to win
The lowering countries were divided and moved to
Different sides
His back turned black and blue
As the people would fight

They began to take over Art, who was just the elevator lift
And any exposed skin, became a way to win
And in his eyes, he began to go blind
Because the wars fought were about the sight
Of the man, who once was their beginning

And soon they realized, Art had eyes,
And whoever had them…would rule the skies

Continued in next week’s Oddball Magazine.


Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. Man the Storm is his alter ego. His “Jagged Thoughts” column appears weekly. Click here for part one of this serial.