Poem: LEECH.

How deep is your conviction?
How broad your courage?
How merciful are your vices?
How strenuous your virtues?
Does your righteousness know not condescension?
Does it pass judgment on its errs,
do your sinews of love give trust the strength
to stand?
Or is it a leech?
Is your love only content when it enslaves the
love of others?
Is it envious of the bloated sickness of alien revelry?
Does the fever of delight sicken it?
If so—
here, find the bile of my sick being—
leech off that—then shrivel and die.

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