“The spotlight is my only friend as it blinds me from the seeing eyes”

I sat there in the back and the front
Drenching in the reflection of shadows
With people talking to people about people
Actions and lights waiting to be wanted
The pre-reviews commenced
About the places I hadn’t sit in,
Rivals complimenting over muted devices
I sat in the back and the front – the right and the left
Anticipating the light would pick me
Wondering how the servants at light are even lit…

Someday, the glow on my face shall shove back
All the Rivals and their irksome chitter-chatter.

The biggest rival for an artist is the audience
Whence he runs away from being one.

---

“I only fear what I can create”

Over the circulating landing grounds
The naive feared rabbits zoom through
Where the Rulers, Elephants, and the Corpses march
The terrains twitch and turn to their will
The clouds spit and puke to their wish;
The circulation turns chaotic and erratic
As the necessity of each rabbit thickens,
And the fear follows behind like
A tail on the untailed tale.

Every rabbit fleas from its own fear tail
In hopes of detaching from it forever
In hopes of reaching a stagnance they call safe.

Who knew those rabbits that create the circulation
Hate the very existence of what they create

---

“The chaos I create gets snubbed by the repercussions“

Flying species of ash hovering in space-time
Of a book that was, but isn’t
Readers that were, that passed by.
Per monitor, the librarian fucked up
Per librarian, a reader fucked up
Per reader that never was, the author fucked up
Per author in distress, the other books fucked up
Per cocky books, the library fucked up
But who ever lit the book?

Flying species of silverfish and ash
Giggle at the squash of guilt
Passed to an opponent as a price of burden

Giggles of the remains of a self emulating book
Haunts the Library as the Library moves on