That Keeps Him in the Corner

Man in the corner:
He’s gena bore ya; or,
Be very freaky—
Let’s have a peek… he

Is writing or reading or riotously sounding better
So he can have longer tries at analysing all this before they all
Turn around
To look at him; or, it is in the
Question of
This this this
That stops them turning—
That keeps him in the corner a-creeping(?
Sneaking?)
Faking: a phoney area of the world conscious of
Deliberate looks and bare thought.
He looks magnificent for the century though, for sure,
But that’s about it, I doubt.

Still uses the cutlery witho-
(Don’t question again);
But unfazed, now, as he is, there’s all the,
Who put that there?
Who put all the lessons to learn from along the way there?
And that’s a lot of work, that, even if he explored it all
Unemotionally
Without teacher, hand, band minus 3-lettered Morrisons.

This storm rider here though—
This viaductee—
Is off non-metaphorically to a mirror.
It is still him in a bar edged—
Still etching;
Him solo—hollow—with a lone pen for a reality drawn out;
Him in a rhyming cap
Staring back

Only daring to be impenetrably alone—
Solely so boring and freaky;
And away from the point.