Max Hollywood

He liked his own posts—
his favorite subject being himself—
even going so far as to
put sticky notes all over his mirror,
reminding himself of how awesome he was.
But when that face in the mirror went all Dorian Gray on him—
the mirror cracking when he smiled at it—
he was rewarded with 7 years of bad luck.
Then he had to rely on a world
that became blind to his male beauty,
but not to his bullshit.
His face,
his lucky charm,
was no longer a goldmine.
The women he’d collected like dolls,
or charms for a bracelet,
were released from his magnetic charm,
for the value of his sperm bank
had depreciated,
& so, like an aging movie star,
there were no new releases,
save the ones that he did himself.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-447