My insidious company –
he’s a letch who aims to please
with a lascivious sense of sensitivity
and a lack of all fine sensibilities.
Inside, a sissy,
no doubt, with some emotional disease
and an inability to form healthy boundaries.
He’s a mess, a bust, a walking catastrophe –
all scrambled up with inconsistencies,
incapable of any meaningful self-analyses
(though he dreams of degrees in psychiatry).
He’s in a holding pattern, a freeze.
It’s shocking, really, all these abnormalities.
They do so puzzle and fail to please.
A man so lost, no suitable sense of identity –
Oh God, my God, could that be me?
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