Self-Deception Connoisseur.

So here I am, writing lies 

for fear of leaving nothing else,

as poetry ambiguous 

clouds neither brain nor body. 

Damn you, gravestone, 

and the coldness here interned. 

You don't share that secret 

which I alone would die for.

Pagan-godless heathen, Jew.

Alphabets within Alphabets 

Idiosyncryptic contexts 

and nervousness. 

I kill three men a year:

one, a baby 

one, a bore 

one (who used to guide me) 

can dead guide me no more. 

Turn away in time.

Runaway in tears.

What did you expect of me?

I am constructed from your fears.