Lichen Of Guilt

There is a vindictive troll on my desk, making
spiteful accusations while offering confused
explanations in an unsettling phantasmagorical
confabulation of memories from the mind of a
self-styled long-suffering victim  - expressing

In a cacophony of brash tunes depicting self-
absolution, the troll insists she’s a good Golem
but the written chem in her head was affected,
she calls her kids evil - begging the question:
bad education or bad genes; clearly denoting

The mother a troll; this tragedy befell me right
after I spilled nail varnish on my reading glasses
teaching me never to paint silver glitter on my
nails at work, it’s so pretty I painted my flip-
flops also - resulting in a mess on my desk

My list of woes goes on: I owe the dentist, have
to pay this debt with credit, my finances driving
me to distraction, I’m not a conscientious Golem
myself – just a nutty troubadour suffering when
I have to relay screeching lines into a similar

Version in another key, my transitions always go
wrong forcing my colleagues to change my whole
song, choose another key and uproot the chords
to make it more congenial to their superincumbent
taste, I give up, this troubadour-troll has too much

Lichen of guilt on my stony body, can’t master the
skill of relaying original dissonant songs in a key
which soothes my godly masters - wearing halos
suffused with the golden glory of their grand skills
while regarding my trollish self with supercilious

Contempt knowing their supremacy & authority
make them invincible, forever relegating me to
tending the hearth - while they rejoice because
I have no fairy godmother & can only dream of
having a perfect chem in my head…