Being in-between is never the lackluster of choice. I heed choices around like flyers wanting to join a cause. Imaginary circus of arts that never heed the claims of self choice. Choice disregards the claims of the imaginary circus. Disregarding all claims. Flyers flying around the in-between being free. Captured within there realm. Realm full of artistic surges! Extending past its bubble. Purging a focus deeming itself without worthy statements. Since actuality isn’t much of a focus for being in-between. A bubble surrounding even greater surfaces. One marked by choices. Marked by claims. Even marking self choice. Anti disregarding symptoms. Caring for what actually happens. An illusion in the light, that purges the shade holding two halves into one singular point. Points too judgy for claims, such as responsibility. No yes’s and no’s to be the counter balance. Imaginary circus becoming somewhat tainted. Heeds around choices without claims to care. Surging the realm full of arts. Nothing happens, until it chooses to act. I am in-between. And I am balance itself.