From the moment he walked into the classroom,
I felt the chilling, coldness that enveloped him.
As if he were some skinned Siberian tiger,
walking through a valley of gushing, slush.
I felt it, in the coldness of his darting eyes,
in the precise manner in which he placed his feet,
in his tutorial-like speech, robotic, textual.
I felt it in his shining sliver-stainless-steel Bulova watch,
and in the metal eagle that encricled his right-ring-finger.
I felt his spiked heartcicles in his unspotted
fingernails, and his perfect, straight, white teeth.
How crooked! What decorum his body wore, what smooth
coordination! His body moved the way a cat’s body moves.
His mannerisms all signified control, superiority over oneself!
Rightful Arrogance! yet, I admit, he was the humblest
in the class. But we already know what humility means.
Hubris! Pompous Prick! And yet all that, yes all, I may,
forgive him for. It’s just the coldness of his breath,
that frosty mist that every word of his is ensorcelled with—
breathing in that ice every time he uttered a syllable, That,
I can never forgive him for. For That, I wrote this poem,
about myself. And when will you devour yourself?
This reminded me of myself in alot of ways…
I tried to put it into words here for a couple minutes but all I could come up with was ‘Basketball Camoflauge’
So yeah… I’m useless right now.
jealousy
Thanks for the comment Gobbo – btw, I like your avatar.
Alexis,
Who’s jealous, and of what? (Sorry, I’m a bit slow today). Me hopes, it is of the poem, not the character the poem is about – unless, you mean, the poem is about jealousy? Damn signifiers :[
um…the character is jealous of the guy who walks in the room.
Yea, but uhm, the guy is the narrator 
They’re one and the same.
vanity!
?
Well… I was going more for . . . self-disgust, hence, devour.
I guess though, any poem about oneself is vain to one extent or another – vanity alls vanity, yes? mm hmm…
I do see the other intereptation btw… though only after the apparent mis-interptation.