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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Business · #1990292
I think a poem...of a variation on Patrick Bateman
My hair is clean and sharp.
It is styled - effort...
But to not look like effort.
A sheen of subtle arrogance.

The shirt is clean,
Stark white and crisp,
Against a midnight blue
Shark skin suit.

My tie is pitch black,
My tie pin is bright gold,
My pocket chief is cold white,
And there is a fold of cash in my hand.

My dark sunglasses,
Cover cocaine strained eyes.
My hands, mauve,
Dried blood from last night's fun.

I walk with an aura,
Of status and power.
My shoes clip clop,
The leather heels finding their mark on the cement.

I look for the hour,
On my Patek Philippe.
An instrument of time,
That doesn't do justice to my wealth.

I walk into my office,
Slump in my chair.
I look out of my office window,
With an air of superiority and arrogance.

I smile a cunning smile,
And breath calm and calculated.
I'll flex my power,
On the corporate world today.

I will wage war on the markets,
And plunder the treasures.
Status and power will grow,
And my ego will soar.

I will spend the day high,
I may speedball and trip.
But I can manage it well,
With my dark sunglasses and witty quips.

And tonight I will transform,
I will capture and kill.
I will torture and pillage,
The bodies and souls of those who I find.

I will make them feel worthless,
And cut them into little pieces.
I will marinade them in soy sauce,
And eat them with chopsticks.
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