I am in a collision of dominos I fell on to
the dislike of one, words were etched known
truths but like puppets they suspended me on
the ropes of what was warned now I am
holding my own on a cascade of eventual obscurity

whims of singularity that delegate to the masses
fall on me with much weight but I am not of subtle
innuendoes, I care not for those doors shut for you
only impede yourselves of not reading my verses.

When one is the voice of many and all fall into the
oblivion of there words, I do not hear them drop,
I heed not there linguistically challenged sense.
Saying a true that you are not the master of me I will
ink more words. I don't care what ill winds you spread.