No Vanity Set For This Chap, No Way

(in praise of immortality)

Modesty an understatement,
when eyes chance
to look askew at looking glass,
mine reflection caught at a glance,
an old man's piercing dart

mirrors my blinkered acquaintance
faint recognition communicates
immediate tacit admittance
boyish good looks faded
with morning glory of youth
as senescence didst advance.

Similar to the strikingly handsome
Dorian Gray, this mortal
strictly shares penchant to affiance
a pact with father time, and

devoutly pledge allegiance
to remain forever unaffected
with ill fated biological alliance
even if mandate to pay

with my soul as sole allowance
to stave off the ravages of old age
maintaining glowing ambience
of boyish good looks, or...die...
twill be to late for an ambulance

to rush lifeless body
forthwith to hospital emergency,
an immediate appearance
of rigor mortis, a dead give away.

Cumbersome degradation of
corporeal essence breeds arrogance
born of desperation,
where chronological ascendance
robs cherished commodity,
thus pained angst

to suffer aging accidentally evinced
looking askance
hints of unavoidable assistance
when wracked by incontinence,
thus rendering incumbent orderly attendance,

hence awareness awakened to singular
choice as avoidance,
where vigilance espies silent auction
as decrepitude ousts clutching buoyance
quickly fading steamrolling capacitance

to cling (by the merest thread)
fat or slim chance
against depredations of...
inevitable circumstance trumpeting
"NON FAKE" absent cognizance,
sans horribly wizened wrinkled countenance!