Man of the Year

Pupil of
lilliputian
principles,
and I’m stripping this carcass
to
the bones.

They say home is where the heart is,
but these scarlet vessels
have
nowhere
to go.

And I’m an animal when it comes to pleasure or pain,
a cannibal composed of incompatible names,
but I swear to god,
you’ll know my name
before the twilight ends and the apocalyptic proclamations
fade.

Fame,
despite the cataclysmic games.

My narcissism has its own power and flame, and
I’ll ride this ego-train
into nighttimes without a hint of
shame; point
the interior acclaim
at the focal points and watch the fireworks explode like
grenades.

Just give me
the time and the place
and I’ll
systematically subjugate this
beautiful fallen
world
to a new definition of pain.

I’m the man of the year,
so shake for me, goddammit.

Give me your fears,
and I’ll give you
a new
beginning.

Willie Watt
1.24.17

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