Read on,
my much-less-gentlemen,
this alarm is set
to explode into shards
of gruesome memories all
flesh and bone -
like a fragmentation grenade.
scan my features:
there's no release from perfection.
my vice-like grip on
vanity whispers words
of wisdom into a wisened ear.
my personal barcode
is 12345drink12345.
sober as an Irishman,
I watch even
my reality check bounce.
I love me. Not you.
I'm hanging myself
right here for all to see;
a modern day Dorian Gray,
martyr for the cause.
a revelation occurs within
my airs and graces.
knuckles bone white beneath my
whiskey nose,
I smirk; causing narcissus
to blush at my vanity.
Held captive by wire
as sharp as my tongue,
I can't escape the path I chose.
almanacked forever,
arrogance is a well-trodden path.
your creation forms cysts
on the face of humanity like cancers.
You made me what I am.