A mist of what has passed,

A spirit betwixt living and dead-

Ay, an eery presence that sends chills down my spine.

Nay, unwanted gooseflesh in hours of perturbed sleep.

Like a poltergeist thou wert-

Nagging and gnawing at my inconspicuous bones.

Thou leav’st me hollow as an echo

Till even silence takes its shape.

Anon, through a dewy forest, I dare glimpse thee:

O, see how the doe leaps forth!

With a triumphant stare thou own’dst me.

For it was never a gun for me,

It was but a soul-crushing kiss-

A ravished taste of copper.

Yet thy tongue dares not dance upon temptation’s tip.

And so, within the seven circles of hell I dwell.

For my blood remains befoules-

A pest, am I not?

Alas, I have willingly bitten into Eris’s apple.

Owned, owned, owned.

Lo!

How they point and laugh at me.

Becomingly so, they wag their fingers as an omnipotent god does:

Alas, with their booming voices as loud as thunder.

So comes their thundering commands:

Sit,

Speak.

Roll over!

Each command becomes a blow.

My, how much ammo one has!

Owned, owned, owned!

Chant the cherubs from their beds of cloud

Yet, I would pluck a thousand pomegranate seeds for thee.

But thou art a viper I nurtured in mine bosom

Aught else would-be deception:

Mine wonderous Caliban.

Owned… owned… owned.

Alas, I cannot banish my Caliban.

Thine art sculpted to mine sickened perception of perfection-

And so, she shrieks and mocks me

For all eternity.

Here I roll into mine early grave,

For to die young is but a saint’s deceit.

May I die wicked then-

Owned no more, I fade into hush.

For death is the kindest owner of all-

Then let the earth reclaim what it owns.

O, let these bones harbour love once more!