Handsome is a verb

Back when---I lobotomized myself,
   and swallowed centuries
in a capsule, shamed the mirror
   and, sunk in filth, knew hell
is other people you are too,
   though they seem
to rant what you rant, glisten
   in sweat how you do
and listen to jive poor
   as yours---back then,
I was an ugly man: my Roman
   nose was a bit broken,
and my skin like stucco---
   back then, I thought how
wanton brains will, I stopped
   others in their tracks---
I made a sport of narcissism
   and cramped the gilded room
lined with books, how my head is,
   how my sorry closet was---
how dim, that, how exult the doorjam
   was when I sheered away
its rust, rusty as I was---
   I knew then the body is an idea,
merely that, one composed of drugs
   and strict ontologies---
how flimsy, those, how deadly
   when applied to boys like me,
the egg that should have cracked,
   the sparkle in my father's eye
that was but one part sunshine---
   I count in days centuries
and how all indolent boys do,
   that is, one wasted day at a time,
that is, in my hermitage---

~ by Jeremy on June 19, 2013.

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