NarcissistInTheThirdVerse
I’m not a musician,
but I wish I was.
Soundscapes weaving the heart
Vibrations burning cyan
I’m half a mile away from bursting to flames,
I can taste the heat from an inch of my fingers,
Hit the ground.
I’m not a scientist,
but I wish I was.
Physics tying strings in the stars
Building smoke and bubbling black
My heart is a hammer,
Flying off to the rush, the edge of the firework
Feel my blood in steam
I’m not a comedian,
but I wish I was.
Laughter drawing the instincts
Hovering in the colour orange
Cutthroat coming up smoke,
I ate a rose bush for the thorns in my teeth,
Fuck this crooked smile
I’m not a painter,
but I wish I was.
Brushes melting in bright plastic mirador
Counting clocks in shades of grey
Boiled brain cells in a skull cage,
I’m a puddle in red-blue
Stain your chewed-out fingernails
I’m not a magician,
but I wish I was.
Lies quivering through facades
Twisting cards in quiet emerald
I’m a human monster in the flesh,
Ripped from an ugly world’s
Chalk-based womb
I’m not a poet,
I’m not a writer,
I’m half a human in a steel pipe,
Crowds shadowing my self-esteem
Dancing scenery in molten sapphire
Feed my starved out ego,
Thick fat creature with a black hole stomach,
I am him, I ate him
Not a musician,
A scientist,
A comedian,
A painter,
A magician,
A poet,
Or a fucking writer,
Looming aspirations and glooming desperation
Praised-be to the narcissists,
Statuettes for Saint Bloodlust and the likes of Me
Written By: June Rossaert