Megalomaniacal Egoism

I really hate the egotistical.

Get the dirt from underneath your fingernails
and paint your t-shirt with it.
Crack your knuckles until they ache from the friction.
Evaporate into black for hours and realize—
only forty-two seconds have passed.

Take my picture.

I’ll smile after a while, but it’s as good as barren—
a field with no daffodils, a brain with no mind.

Climb that hill covered in crabgrass,
and tell everyone about the view.
Make it known you’ve climbed it.

Mind the clock again; it’s a countdown.
You can’t take back what you’ve done.