The Spirit of Paris
by Alfred de Vigny
You clapped-out, vain old sophist ! Guzzle
old glories, like cheap wine, through drunken muzzle!
What you regard as best, I know is worst.
You just don’t care. You’ll start on the death-mask
of some great man, or better, some serial killer,
before he’s fully dead. You’ll smear on filler,
and meanwhile lift his wallet from the casket.
more severed heads behind the Rue Royale.
You’re the King of Evil, like all other vampires!
For once, talk straight. Speak up. Admit it all!
No? I hope that some poor soon-to-be-deceased
blesses (therefore scalds) your forehead, Beast!