You stile me

From my place of purity

You wretched homeless scoundrel

I am yours against my will.

I take my hand

And wave you away

Only to find—

You’re still shaking it.

I’m feeling nauseas

And cold

And evil

For letting you rein me.

Are you feeling handsome?

Are you feeling swell?

Are you taking my silence to heart?

Oh, how I hate you

And how I hate myself for hating you.