Self Portrait

Well, perhaps I ought to paint, a portrait,

Smeared in my own

"Shana" taint. At this rate,

I should really pass out or faint...

From the moment I gazed upon her Sky gray eyes,

Charcoal sparkle. Fierce instincts, the adrenaline,


Frankly, just like Bonnie and Clyde,

Forever the two of us, you and I.

There's nothing I can see,

Without you ridin' by my side.

Every single critic

Can eat it. Fuck money,

Cake, bread, dough, cheese...

Dead presidents gone green,

If that's what you please.

And you all should gather rather quickly around me,

As if I were stricken with a terminal disease,

Braver than most, gladly,

Armed or unarmed

I will face my Ghost, proudly.

Clearly, this could end badly over my rigor mortise.

No requiem, only dream phantoms invading my bed of roses...

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