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An Ego Fart

my confidence, like grey water
stagnant from last months bender
stinks of blood from the pores of my neurotic hemorrhoid

puddles ice over my glass eyes
not going unnoticed by the casual observer
saying I should smile more
when I buy cigarettes

does a smile add to the illusion of confidence?
will my teeth represent my thoughts?
I don't think so
nor do I think some cashier unable to pass a turing test
is able to judge the state of my psychosis

even if she does have two years of service

but they all try to piss me off
with their     Have a Nice Day
nametag

my confidence, a volcano beneath glacial silence
waiting for the human hope machines
to play their numbers and scratch off their chances

I don't need a nametag.
I am Smiarowski

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