Song of the Narcisisst

Today I masturbated to a rose
To a bird
To a tree
They're all me
I am William Blake
I am William Wordsworth
I am Will.I.Am.
I am what I am
against my best efforts
to be something else

Do we even remember who they are?
They're birds
Writing is healing
My voice is the company I find
in a time when everyone else
is distracted by themselves
Am I learning? Am I growing
in this little garden of lines?

Don't leave little bird
You're a Mockingbird
I found you in my book
"Mockingbirds will attack their reflection
in a window, a hubcap, or mirror,
with such vigor that they
injure or kill themselves"
That doesn't sound like me
I prefer my reflection
It's the only thing I'm sure
will be there when I turn to it