The Narcissist

the drug-guzzling, medication thieving alcoholic
that used to be Lover’s old work colleague
who wooed me with poetry
and romanced me hopelessly
offered up an apology of poor quality
but I advanced a second chance
which lasted a week and now we don’t speak

And I’m so grateful ‘cos he was just hateful
it was all about him, him, him
’til my patience ran so thin

he talks in rhymns
with clear signs
of control being his goal

he was barren of compassion
and quick to shout and strutt about
it’s his way or the highway

a narcissist he’s self confessed
they dole out doses of distress
thinking they’re so grand when all they are is shallow ‘n bland

the poem he claims he wrote especially for me
was none other than a W B Yeats specialty
what an absolute ultimate liar
I do hope his crotch catches on fire

p.s. – …..and I know, and you know, you stole a chance and took a glance at my secret name, even though “that’s not so” you claim. Well, stop playing your games they’re lame. I know you are stalking my blog, you think you’re smart but you’re not. Just fuck off before I lose the plot, you plagiarising snot


Say what you mean, and mean what you say

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