i am so vain.
i am so vain.
when i look at you
i don't even know your name.
dost thou knowest mine?
dost thou knowest my time
is not meant for titles
an unheard of pantomime,
yet i heard it's mine
from the unknown seekers.
those unseen speakers

meshed in a crowd;
matched for the crude;
moshed from below

where melting blows.
bellows.
bellows.

pillows of thorns
scraping God gave me?
scarring the crown
to be on a head,
ahead of the rest,
rest un assured that
wrestling's insured
even with demons?

their attempts of beheading
is getting less quiet.
so here are the gaps
that are gaped unbeautiful.
hear all the gasps
to an ugly
source to be mocked.
to be flogged,
with flags from a sowing.
flags for a reaping
but my face is not striped.

is it stripped?
is it ripped?
is it barricaded in blame?

i can only remember
that i bear what's at fault
the lines of destruction.
empty stampedes
still pounding,
bruising,
beating,
a soul
that look's ugly.