For Ellen Catherine

        The precious nagging of conscience fails me.

        I see no way to dissuade her

        And I see life as too little of consequence

        To matter in this context

         Mercy eludes me,

        Permanent marks and scars

        Will full mistrust and the knowledge that condemns me

        Has seduced me into demonic forms

        Lusting for pain, death and revenge

        My form is of malfunction

        The tattered seams of my self respect

        Torn buy the suggestion that my presence is not only unwelcome but corrupt and unclean

        Has destroyed me

        I've nothing left to justify my existence

        But the small curiosity of a broken man

        Whose pathetic visage is more obscene than its mother can bear

Jam

© James Cross