The truth about me is a bacilli,
It flutters through with stringy flagella,
It leeches the proteins, and grows from a stem.
I lie still, and ask to be directed by them.
Nothing happens at first; then they
Carry me by the eyes to HIV and parvo.
I am asked not to mention the things that I saw.
I write them down and hang them in the sun.
Creatures come out to look in on them.
Nothing is conclusive, it dangles like a uvula.
They look for a moment, and yawn as they pass.
At night I'm awake, I've been joined by a bat.
It speaks without looking at me,
Mentions my faults with fleas caked in its fur.