I was just a gaunt, decrepit figurine on your losing team, 
a bloodhound in the swamp who wailed for new [bad word] (Teach me how to live) 
When I was summoned to eradicate the clues 
I faithfully destroyed, and feigned serenity, our palace and our hands clean 

You conspired with sprites and spirits 
in a campaign of attrition, against my brightest ambitions. 

The garden heaved Calsap [bad word] 
I ripped them out like weeds, 
their Rorschach pedals 
made mysterious the wretched 
While beneath the soil dead charlatan's bottles, were promising to heal 
my shattered mitochondria 
The doctors obscured on yellow paper, I left them drying on a sill 
to archive their lies. 

I spent my nights with the croaking frogs, who mated to proliferate 
And above me, the Crab Nebula 
so full of life that it broke, 
twisted pulsations slowly 
while my own light was too dim for Alhazen. 
So to burst was pointless. 

There's no Isis to collect my limbs 
to nail and glue the broken shards 
I tie my stalk, against a rotting [bad word] 
Never good enough for my own plot. 

I'm the yellow [bad word] from the grief ballet, the shattered wheel in the cavalcade 
but life flows in my veins, like St. Elmo's fire 
I'm the lonely mare that is caked in [bad word]  the crippled mast that the waves have hit 
I don't want you to view me. I just want you to soothe me.