Poem -

the rant of narcissus

the rant of narcissus.

he had a self which
always spoke of itself
in the 13th person;

hows that for a numbing
brain twister?

how the eff does he liveĀ 
its lies, and eyes, that
reflect shadows of themselves?)

down here we've all
got our own shit to deal

and so (aside fromĀ 
"share time")

its every voice and/or
personality for itself.


damn im drowning
inĀ  life...

someone throw meĀ 
a death-line and help
me sink further.

(i need the sleep.)

ive blinked away these
last few centuries inĀ 
a matter of seconds.

(so that
one free minute would
be a rival to my hearts




falling in love with himselves

diggin that ol grave
we dig and never crawl
out of.

must be nice to be so
certain that...

any of this is real..
with the precision of
revisions a dead (for
now) poet once noted.

as for me,
livin or dead...

im drowning.

(and angels have
my death-line.)