No Lament for Narcissus

Gasoline and acetone and hydrochloric acid.

The extraction process is a hex unto itself.

Why bother to boil a toxic brew,

when you ingest poison all on your own?

You desire no simple satisfactions.

You labor to dig up diamond dust, when

you could wander shorelines, sandy feet,

and wait in the sun for shells sent by the sea.

Rape the earth, refine, cut, and polish.

Gold teeth in forceful wide grins.

A day or more in wages, sucked up your nose.

Dopamine potion, traded between false friends.

Dopamine potion, revving receptors past capacity.

What spell more malicious than the maladies in your mind?

The deadliest incantation already working within you,

long before you both cut me and rubbed salt in my wound.

You were born cursed. What else could I add?

Your guts will erupt from your esophagus,

they will foam through your lips,

and you will die, unnoticed.

Your death mourned only by your forlorn reflection,

trapped in your beloved mirror.

Still, I hope it happens.

Still, I hope it happens, but soon.


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