On A Laid-flat Mirror

Caught [with a rolled note]

Almost too-quick-blurred –
cash in & hide a narcissist

See – penurious [thin] lips
reprinted by lipstick – spits
arc from old pseudonyms

Stories yet to bore you all

Mine is art of auto-writing
as others chop at verses –

kill your darlings so dead –
then you put ‘em straight

Passion is my tired calling
as my redundancy stamps

It is felt by girls who won’t
gaze [avoiding reflection]