The ANATHEMA came to me one day in August.
It crept in through my window while I was sleeping,
Flat like a huntsman, crawling through the gap
Between the room and the outside darkness.
And then it crept into my brain,
Took up residence,
And acted accordingly
For the rest of the day.
And when I awoke, I felt it awake with me.
It steered my legs, my arms, my emotions.
It turned me from my food,
Took hold of my mouth and pounded it
Into a frown.
It tugged me away from my work,
Towards the life of a lazy student.
I told it not to,
That I was busy,
That my life lay before my eyes in Birdseye view,
But it would not listen.
It whispered messages in my ear,
Messages of hatred and cruel ANATHEMA
That led me to pause, to glance slowly around
With careful suspicion of everything.
It told me that the Birdseye view was a lie,
Planted by people who did not care for me.
I would never grow to love it.
INSTEAD, it said, in a tiny, insipid voice, TRY THIS.
IT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY
AND EVERY HUMAN WANTS TO BE HAPPY.
And how do you know? I asked it, in a frightened murmur
Because you are not human.
And you are not me.
You do not know.
And I will not believe you
The ANATHEMA was angry,
But soon it disappeared
To seek a more hospitable host.