Bitter aftertaste 
of every exploitation 
chokes me 
like a mouthful of spiders,
crawling in or out 
I don't know 
but I kneel 
to the gods 
of nausea in moments 
of reflection upon 
what I stole 
from a fifteen year old girl 
and not even 
a thousand seasons 
of rain could wash 
my leprosy from her body.