Everything He Touches Turns to Coal

Dyspeptic and jaundiced, the man is ill
(Both physically and morally perturbed) –
Made sick by wasting of a robust will
With yes and yes and yes and yes uncurbed,
“Yes, I do want that, and so I will take it,
And, yes, I will do whatever it takes;
Yes, I will buy, steal, lie for, fake it,
And, yes, I will count it, while my heart aches.”
So, yes, he counts, recounts late into night,
And, yes, he peeks around, inspects the dark,
And, yes, he locks it deeply out of sight,
And, yes, he leaves, but adds this last remark,
“You stay in there, my sweet, for now you’re mine;
You will stay put, yes, in our private shrine.”