This anteroom stinks of failure. This anteroom stinks of the failure to outlive my life, hypocrisy rampant like a firehose, but jesus life outlives me, it outlives us all and who am I to say no to the hole I'm standing over? Moreover, the many-mouthed Ego, in this poem Ego is Kali with her eight arms holding up eight different middle fingers, Ego must have taken my brains, because they're here, on the sidewalk, ready to be made into scrambled eggs. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant pleads.