Terminological Inexactitude

I am a mystic
Spawned in the sweet Sargasso Sea
And raised with robbers on the railways of Rhode Island
Destruction is my spirit’s milk
I only speak the truth
I am of the belief that two mouse equals meece
But I remain undisguised, up front, and settled
Defined by one thought that’s always within reach
I am blessed with the gift of dispassion
Bridled by indifference

My mama is a llama, but we are not related
My father is a tortoise in the sand
I know a man called Flawless
Together we are an American Eagle Utopia
My laughter is sunlight, faintly flashing in a forest where the zebra takes its nap
My body runs on lightning
My body runs on porridge
My body runs on sales tax from your purchase of milk and cheese
In my dreams I catch the kindly Capuchin
The sloth is too swift and I fall behind

As a child I walked the banks of Snake River
And I found a gypsy who carried the secret of life in her knapsack 
I soon grew adept in the art of spoonerisms 
And I’m always certain of where I belong
Knowing all and seeing all, I am the lord of understanding
Throwing off blankets of ramen and gift wrap, I face the winter bare and unarmed and alive
I shout out profanities against the silence of cafeteria chatter and classroom buzzing
I always take the path of patience
The sidewalk of sincerity
The boulevard of the blameless
And I feel that all is right in the world