In the ego of a lustful pessimist.

Arrogance is nothing but self-delusion; and I,
I am afraid, am as self-deluded as they come.
Do you really want to know more?

You will hate me if you know me so is it not far better that you do not?
I understand what you want to see and I can show it to you;
but it is not me.

Reason is not followed by acceptance;
acceptance is the man on stage that is clapped at for wearing a mask.
The applause is rapturous; so does he dare to take it off?
Put simply, no, he does not.

He lets it engulf him, he lets it become him.
And now it is too late; it is him.
Sad? No… Pathetic.

I am the mystery that you wish for yourself;
the enigma that you have always wanted to be.

I am the one who grins at your redundant humour,
hoping you will catch a glance and think we are friends.

You are not aware that behind my painted face,
lies a corrupted soul that is judging you; intensely.

My motivation is but a slave to my desire.
My desire is what makes you want me.
And make no mistake about it, you do want me.

And whilst you speak to me, and burn for me; I am listening,
all the while, to the sound that your lips make as they graze the tip of your tongue.
I am deciding whether I want to lick them.

Do I misjudge you humanity?
Am I not to lack faith in something that has always lacked faith in me?

Keep your innocuous pity to yourself,
I do not need it, nor do I want it.
My name is unimportant,
but I want you to know that my epitaph will read;

“Here lies someone that is far better than you could ever hope to be.”