Becoming Less Desperate
A Poem
Becoming Less Desperate
Flee from me you pensive sow,
Which lords the shade in front the sun,
Render painless the swine-cast pearl,
And cease the bleed—your cutting done.
So flee from me portentous dream,
Leave my mind in peace, intact,
No more fiends to ring my bell,
My tensile nerves no longer wracked.
Flee from me you carrion pest,
You’ve had enough of aching flesh,
Of vulture pain and locust angst,
I flee from you and seek my rest.