to market to market in poetry

I never could figure out
unconditional love of self
without tipping overboard
into seas of raging narcissism and so
in hopes of not being such an asshole
I raised high the flag of self-doubt
and hoped that it would all work out
but it seems that hasn't happened
happened hasn't happened
happened hasn't happy haven't been happy in a long goddamned time

was trying not to be a jerk
just a convenient excuse
for not putting in the work
I really don't know
the subconscious mind
hides the worst of ourselves
from us I find and
I have to at least consider
the possibility
that in trying to restrain myself
I've neutered my own utility
and maybe unfiltered arrogance
would win the day
maybe maybe
maybe may

and anyway anyway
what would I be
if I was a success
but I wasn't me
would that be
adapting to new stimuli
or the most emptily shallow
of phyrric victories
phyrric victories
phallic casualties
frank causality
anyone else but me

all I can say
is there's no profit in being
in this interminably indiscernible
space that's in-between
something has got to give
something has got to break down
somehow I have to live
and soon