Poetry Narcissist

[Bang Bang]

*breathes pretentiously*

It's 4am, just past Xmas, and I'm innately awful. Seems like the perfect circumstances for poetry. Warnings: Old as balls, pretentious as balls, poetry

Narcissist

Part One​

 

[Bang Bang]

Grayscale moths and dusty stomachs,

I'm done with you.

Let the cakes decay, the bodies be eaten;

I shall devour mine with a silver fork.

It is mine and mine alone,

And I shall consume it whole,

Before the dust sets in.
​

- dust​

​

 

[Bang Bang]

Cracked minds breed monsters,

Or so they tell me.

I think it all romantic.

I break my skull on thoughts and poems,

And stare at shadows in the closet.

I lay traps and treats,

So that monsters may come take me,

And trail enviously after those who've won.

I lounge in their tears and drunken howling,

Begging them for more.

I pry from them their delightful terrors,

And count them side by side,

To take their measure,

And so amass my own.

Yet when monsters slither out the cracks,

For they have always been here,

It is not with roses and wet kisses,

But with death and dread and dreary faces,

And I will bid them leave,

Only to have them pull me closer,

And coddle me to rest.​

- monsters​

 

[Bang Bang]

Festering rats fatten on the milk of my tongue,

Which turned sour long ago,

But feeds their flabby stomachs nonetheless.

Playing my pipe I crouch and snivel,

And worm through cracks and alleys dark,

And infect and poison,

Disease wet with saliva.

Thick black fur surrounds me,

My tongue swollen in my mouth,

Gorged on sweet honey,

Corrupted by the sun.​

- rats​