When people feel sorry for you, they take it upon themselves
to do what they consider are all kinds of favours.
But when the reason they are sorry is because of what they know – once upon a time! –
was shameful done to you,
in a past they themselves have some serious connection with
or acquiescing knowledge of,
what really then drives them is no longer your interests, as they might choose to perceive and pity them,
but, rather, their interests in maintaining – quite quiet and religiously hidden –
the exact nature of the stuff – the shite! – quite awful out there
which, even now, they doggedly refuse
to reveal to you.
And oh, when you feel sorry for someone, you are capable of all kinds of good.
But when you feel sorry for yourself, the bad you can do to those you claim to help just never, never ends.
And these, precisely these, are the wrongs I am now writing about.
I may be a tad slow, you know, after all,
but I guess, yes I do, that my style of dogged
needs slow: and a true and unerring patience, more than anything in the world.
More, in fact, I now realise, than it needs you.
And so that’s what your lies have driven me to.
And that’s what your lies have really done.
Time to dig on … and dig on …
… and dig on!
Time it is to dig on.