Beautiful Beautiful Boy

Beautiful beautiful boy

Is it you?

Or I

Trot along in busy traffic

Rush hour

Noise

You've become so adequately poised.

Peaches and cream

A razor

For what I wish

I already have 

When seen through a glassy eye

That isn't my own.

A razor

Not spun

A razor 

Give me a taster 

Of what it's like

If I chase the chaser

That is being chased

I am not a trator 

Beautiful beautiful boy 

Gone to waste.

Around the ear

Down the neck 

From you

Glassy eyes

In the glass of the mirror 

Observe 

A stubborn wreck.

Curl up 

On my stained lips

An abundance of me 

Stings

Like salted chips.

I'm still not convinced 

Even with this sterling silver

Descending 

Like an elevator.

Headed to ground floor

Descending

Onto your face

How does this feel this silver feel?

How does this silver taste?

Oh beautiful beautiful boy

Gone to waste.