Sociopath.

Look.
Those dull spheres swivel
Like worn marbles.
Their eyes take all
Give nothing back.
They hold hands and rut
And make more dull people.
They never read what they don't
Have to. Crass colours and games
Fill their hours, their crooked faces
Sneer back at me. Tiresome talking
Drowns me out; drives me mad.

Look.
All those false tanned women.
False hair, skin, mind, heart.
Nothing is real
Nothing has substance.
They are walking grease.
Sin made manifest.
I will not touch them.
They repulse me.

Look.
A reflection.
Bad teeth and worse skin
And a stooped, bent back.
What a waste you are!
Who made you God?
A puritan's sneer
And a rich boy's haircut
Are all you have.