Oh how you scoffed at my theories

As we walked along the hall

Your petulance and queries,

Were not but shoaling squalls.

 

You called my science dead,

cracked like Pliny and Agrippa.

Memetics cannot work that way you said,

And you didn't think it should

 

I spoke with passion, I spoke with heart

I talked with all my might.

And then you played your little trick

You took me through the night.

 

My passions were like toys to you,

Your wheedlings false and soothing,

But I should have seen you turn the screws,

Your slick lies black and oozin

 

You said perhaps you'd reconsider,

Perhaps in my works you saw,

Some potential, just a sliver,

I fell right for your honeyed lies

But then you always were a kidder.

 

You used me, abused me,

loving, lying, tender cooing,

You lead me on, all while,

Your fiendish plan was stewing.

 

Comittee chairs, with iron stares,

Looked down right at me,

I told them my ideas true,

But you must've known

I'd have to pay the piper's fee.

 

You let them mock me there,

you prodded to shut me down,

The knife stabbing yet again,

And you let them twist it round.

 

Discredited, mocked, tarred and flayed,

You let me run from there,

But it seems you've come around.

Now that I have left your hair

 

You took my theories, brushed them off,

Polished them to a waxen sheen.

They must be much easier to sell now

When of woman's touch they've been cleaned.

 

You took me as I pushed for knowledge,

In more than one way turned the screw.

You played me for a fool and left,

When I'd shown myself to you.

 

For you I'd stripped naked, stark,

But you took what you wanted,

in your hands, inside the dark.

 

You mocked me as I ran to my bliss,

And you call yourself a scientist?!

 

My victory you've done to rob,

But these words should have done their job.

This worming meme I spoke of?

It's in this poem, to you my love.

 

You feel that burning, that sticky slough?

That's you skin now rotting off.

But wait, we've only just begun,

Just feel what happens after stage one,

 

Thoughts can compel the flesh you know,

From neural seed, peach fruits may grow.

Schemes can pull the skins of others,

Colleagues, rivals, students, lovers.

 

Your shell should be hardening now,

Your mind held in my escrow,

Your eyes now doubled, your legs reshaping,

Your black tongue now elongating.

 

Words may soothe the savage breast,

But they also make pet out of a pest,

Your lies over my flesh may have won,

But now it's my turn to have some fun.