Profile Ages away I Slice mired spiral vernacular veneer Egg on my face Wash my hands of it Dry wittily Skin beyond recognition Somewhat shoddily Reject validity Head toward Chaos Reeking of havoc I Tackle the turmoil In my stride Nowhere to go Nothing to hide Lick the wounds of my promised Foreign body Second coming In your face Ages away Seeds are sewn Battles rage Wars unwon Bets are wagered All the while Long overgrown Short on style Nobody home Take volition To point Wistful thinking In outline