3.
He was
the job.
A peculiarly complex
hardened
little hell called
Bolan.
And he
was
cannibalistic.
Ever-advancing cancer
Bolan was.
But equipped to handle
a holy mission.
Bolan was no philosopher.
One of
his ice-blue eyes:
face
that
jungle.
Bolan’s understanding
entirely clear-cut:
to rape the world and eat
something.
