Rorschach

Today the world ends, but in the meantime I’ve a case,
a bar to clear out, fingers to break, maybe arms, rough work
exhuming the facts, why else frequent this vice den where
the whores go cheap, everyone's half cut, even the kids
run high on drugs, little crack weasels, no one holding out
for zilch beyond the next hit. I put on my face and I’m
indestructible, a force of nature, doing what no one else will.
Through cheap stalls, stale tat, fast food, fry-ups and
red light districts, New York has gone to hell, racketeers
in life’s temple, car gets jacked, they just stand by
watching, I notice a woman on the corner, expecting love.
Passengers! When are they going to get the message life’s
active? I put on my face, become Rorschach. My alias,
that drifter with The End Is Nigh placard, vanishes. Exhaust
fumes, Don't Walk sign, plastic bag caught on a budless
branch, forget the subway, grappling hook, preferring
to run the city’s rooftops. I put on my face. Troupe
of monks below spot me, last life was I a bug or a bird?
I say every time you just keep coming back as yourself.