Like Father, Like Son

Thoughts come embedded
in your inherited flesh

they rise unbidden
bubbling through
the you you think you know

That urge there...
       Dad, is that you,
                     inside me?

         "c'm'ere.. !    I paid for you bitch-sh-ch"
he hisses in your soul

Yet you sit still and sure 
and prosper in the first pew
with your shiny wife
not yet gone to seed.

She will smell it in you soon

and will bear you little off-spring
you are frightened of