My Architect

My Plastic Architect Clean lines, Sleek designs, The heart of a Cold-blooded killer. All for plastic presentation, And glorifying adoration. Being in absolute control, Is imperative, To his detailed nature. Critical to a fault. Greed is the epicenter, Of his beating heart. Selfish motives, Are always waiting, Just below the surface. Porsche dreams, Meager means, Pinto bean meals, Broken-down beater-wheels, Fake veneers. Pent-up frustrations, Competitive manipulations, Skilled showman, Dirty-diapered man/boy. Weeks and weeks of sky miles, Hot ****, hotel rooms, And worn-out hookers, Years and years Of broken-down dreams. Not enough time, For being real. My plastic architect.