am I the one you think of?
the subject of your discernments
or the grudge of your sentiments.
for how long you enslave my sanity?
of your gigantic amour propre
a poke to my slipshod vanity
an aeonian flight towards your sincerity
till I find the remnant of my destiny
am I still the neuron of your fussy mind?
the retina of your eyes now blind
the aorta of your cold heart that died.
no, I’m now the worm in your feces
the tiny stone in your bladder
the old blood that block your veins
the crackerjack that brings you pain…