Routine

Ages away
I
Crawl out of Bedlam
On all flaws
A Hairless mess
To brush with Death
Skin beyond recognition
Wipe mired spiral vernacular veneer
Egg on my face
Wash my hands of it
Dry wittily
Somewhat shoddily
Reject validity
Head toward Chaos
Reeking of havoc
I
Case my house
Tackle the turmoil
In my stride
Nowhere to go
Nothing to hide
Lick wounds of promised
Foreign body
Second coming
In your face
Ages away
In terms of forever
I'm here to stay
Then it's back to Bedlam