never quite escaping in poetry

i find myself perpetually stalked
by this doughy gruesome monster
following me everywhere
day and night
all hours and all seasons
but he is nothing if not
a veritably wily grotesque
I’m only able to catch his sight
in mirrors or puddles
shiny metal, clear windows
every other time the bastard
manages to hide behind the
cheap backdrop of my life
how the beast disgusts me

you have to understand
inside my own head I am
dashing, charming, warm
perhaps a little rakish
perhaps a bit intimidating
in my height and width but
in a way that’s also
magnetic and impressive
and then I briefly bear witness
to that pale flabby shambling mound
maybe in my car’s front rear-view
as I’m driving or whatever
and I just curse that fucker so
to be seen as that thing
holy shit
that’s what they all see me as
that’s what you see me as
and I am so ashamed

I am not so like these
poor wasting away dysmorphics
who hate themselves and
project their madness into
their reflections and see
their inner fears confirmed

I lope about 95% of the time
fully convinced I am this
welcomingly handsome man
until I have to see that
other guy
the one who follows me around in mirrors
and the spell of self-delusion breaks
and I see the malformed lump before me
left to admit that I am him
and he is me
and this is what I look like
to everyone else
not the tall dark and beautiful swain
I manage to trick myself into
believing that I am
and it sucks
oh brother
oh Lord
it sucks

fuck that guy
I’m sick of looking at him
I’m sure everyone else is too but
holy shit
you all can walk away when you want
I’m stuck with him just past the bridge of my pudgy nose
for the rest of my besmirched life
holy shit
fuck that guy