Wednesday, March 10, 2010


Poisoned by a diet of eyes,
Swirling brown and blue fangs scrutinizing
And sensing the time to strike,
I see the ripple of color preceding cruelty,
I see the curve of a lid like a jawbone.
Their slightest look is all appetite
And can evaporate the splash of the sun.

Forever pursuing pity and pabulum,
The fare of this focus,
The bitter regimen of its assembly,
Has propelled me into rarefied air.
I am the beast unlike all others,
I perturb the masses with my blundering width
And the ominous cut of my frame.

Every look has two deaths.
There are deaths by recognition,
The smirking, tongue-rolling hunger
To mock me
That I can never escape
And there are deaths by reflection,
The sturdy self-regard
Of one who loves themselves alone.

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