You, Myself & Me

My arsenal of weapons, my treasure trove of self-loath  
My timing being almost comical, my time machine no more
My impressive sense of worthiness, my bowl of ego soup
My shackles bound too tightly, my blood begins to rot
My eyes just can't recognize, my blood now begins to clot
My gaze almost now a stare, my rapid unceasing tapping
 
Your disturbing references, your context too obscure
Your passing looks and passive poems
Your expensive, pristine, pointless pedicure
Your you, myself and me
Your slinky walking effortlessly down the staircase
Mine all tangled dead