I fall in love with words that I write
because I am so in love with me.
A true narcissist. I unwilling admit.
The dictionary is open to the n’s. How convenient:
naphthalene to nasal.
This self-admiration is hobbling.
I welcome growing old.
A narcissist hates rejection.
I’m going to turn around all the mirrors
so I can see only others.
What are these hands even then?
If they can’t illuminate what’s within?
They’ll leave behind narcissism.
My old cold hands will seek
the ineffable and
the intrinsic
in private
unreflected
consciousness.
No comments:
Post a Comment