The Evil Genius Inside Me

There is an evil genius living in my shoulder and in the corset of my back. He is the villainy that crushes the discs in my neck, the degeneration; the ramshackle. I awaken with the bones in my neck tamped like sheared nails, my postured limited to crouching and hunkering. I am a curvature. Should this continue, which it will regardless of my writ to the contrary, I will surely curve into a perfect C, thereby dispensing with the need to imposture once and forever.