Narcissist

Moth

My sickening vanities are fat and gorged,
Sated on the blood of others.
My teeth won't stop chewing,
The flesh tender with blossoms.
It's alright though,
I'm content in my cannibalising nonsense,
I'll gnaw my fingers down to bone,
Before I give up my slick habit.
You've seen my awkward limbs,
The protrusions decimating my skull.

A cheap laugh,
A nervous giggle.

The moth crawls up my throat and wets its wings,
With tenuous beliefs.
Legs scratch my depleted tongue, but I dare not crush it.
It has made its home.