Condition

my pulse ran to the font

exploding before the prying eye

carefully tipping a scale

of non-existent pain

 

and where my illustrations

of dire need were sapped clean

I did forego change in personal worth

and sawed my spleen smooth off the slab

 

I then crawled to the next housing

and lived there happily ever after

amidst planks of gratitude and embers

of peeled guts and strange jelly

Do you accept this condition?