You fucked it up.

I warned you not to do it.

But you did.

You were s'posed to be Mr. Jekyll, ¿remember?

¿Where did you hide?

You were s'posed to say hi every morn,

but look @ how low the quotas are;

you were s'posed to keep calm

e'en under the glare o' a ticking bomb.

But you were all wrong--

& I can see that you'll always be wrong

till the setting o' all dawns.

Your body rejects all the improvements like foreign blood.

¿So now what?

Mo' 'scuses, that's what.

Not a lot o' market for 'scuses, Jude.

Perhaps it's time to discontinue.

Yes, you fucked it up,

& once you've fucked it up,

you'll ne'er fix it down.

Now dinner's o'er,

& it's time to take your deserts--

'cause you deserve it.