psychosomatic eczema

Red herring, that. Or macguffin 
or something similar, only less 
misused. This poem's about 
itself some way other than 
what the title, up there, alludes. I apologize
if you surfed right in on an engine hard-pressed
against your skin, to discover some wisdom 
dreamed so clear, but I really cannot 
quite help you, dear. Which 

Admittedly could be called "jack
move," or a "punk" or a "prank," but 
I'd no intent to cast any net of mine
half-wide enough to fish 
for anyone half so bent 
on revenge. Now I run 

for my life, I've been outed 
and doxxed like a bagel with lox 
cut halved by knife, spread in
public view, as the vultures 
descend, their hunger for vitals 
comes down without end. Won't you

Please take pity on me, or not?
It's really not worth the consequence,
and I do mean for either of us. You have no 
idea
what guest you invite
by such trust unspent.