The Lonely Cyst

I am taking to me your arm;
I am making it twisted and wrong.
I am the locusts across your farm;
And I'm making my visit too long.

I Don't want your forgiveness:
I know that.. I should be shot.
I don't know that you'll believe this,
but it's all that I've recently got.

I have found in myself a deep chasm,
and I've drawn up my jurisdiction.
I know that my words were a spasm;
their engines the authors of fiction.

I am the monster crawling fields,
and I don't think that I will stay.
I am the crop you find never yields,
even when the vermin lay at bay.

Don't take your heart any closer:
my lies have punctured it so,
and my words are only the deceiver;
I might save you if I weren't so slow.


4/12/2004/8:33PM