BITTER MAN
From birth screwed tight, I writhed inside my soul.
Now like a screw I fill a twisted hole.
WRITER
I who once dealt in words and set great store
On words have, in a word or two, no more.
PREACHER
Too late. The Hell I threatened cannot hurt you.
The wordless worm best knows how to convert you.
ANYMAN
Friend, though you call, you will not find me in.
My tombstone? Just an answering machine.
MISANTHROPE
Does misery love company? So they say.
But how am I in misery? Keep away.
ATTORNEY
In compost lying low, composed in face,
I scribble briefs for Jesus, just in case.
LECHER
I who could once erect a throbbing bone
Salute you now with rigid, skinned-back stone.
WATCHMAKER
And here you stand and stare while minutes fly.
Time lessens you. But less, still less am I.
ANYMAN AGAIN
Friend, you are only one. Whole hordes have died.
Why try to fight? The odds are on our side.
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