Thursday, November 11, 2010

"Q"

"You can't spell quarantine without"
me, or so I've heard.
And I can't spell paralysis,
without you to define the word
and define my life and enforce the guilt
with a dagger of rust and my name on the hilt.

Yesterdays live forever, a vividly detailed ghost
and links of chain and iron balls and still that unangellic host,
you who can't and never will and couldn't be convinced
(the world be turned, and turned again another thousand since)
of the truth that I've come to confide:
that captives sometimes take your side.

Forgive me or forgive me not,
no argument's writ in this song.
But leave me alone in the bloody mess
that I was always wrong.

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