of course, the good people do come through
they come around, they stop in, they ask about me
and i betray them to play with shadows in the swamps
and then i get tired, and drift into delirium
and sleep is good in the groundwater

good people, blessings
it's good to be grateful, they
infuriatingly say, those others
but my people know better
than to serve me that sap

and i betray
chasing pretty faces
and sweet voices

why do the sweetest voices
emerge from souls that are so sharp
and cold, finely-fashioned steel impliments
artifacts - facts of life

begging is good for the soul, i've heard
from rough-voiced people

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