Cling upon me,
For your immediate comfort.
You have wept with a shivering form,
And eyes that obey all contention.
A face that needs no bliss, as mine
Or your own, for the coming deprivation.
Disease me, your wounds of many fields.
Kiss me, O woman of much gathered,
Suffer not, when the world comes tumbling
Upon our bosoms, so wide and heavy.
We are but deformed infants,
Birthed without care.
When we scream, who will hear us?
When we strike, who will we hit?
When we bleed, who catches such drops?
When we feel, who feels us?
We are so much the crime, the fear for a world,
That turns inside out, to see itself.
We are the parasites for them,
As we care for them.
You have oceans too deep for this world,
And eyes that would strangle its own veins.
Deny me all, so that I may see me maddened,
Make me quiver as you do,
So that I may break your fall.