Skin

Though I mocked the barbs
of impov'rished pride
Vain was I to suppose
that I might, readily
disdain the overtures
of my plaintive Narcissus.
I was deaf
to his imprecations
that I might not suffer
my skin - to become
thus the master of me.

Belittled in rash tedium
I sought to dredge my soul, I resolved
-provoked in haste-
to quell a pervasive ennui;
anchored in roots
of listless stagnation, indifferently conceived
in the malignant placenta
of a transient mind,
nourished well
-courtesy
of my perverse affectations.