I tell such tales
with recklessness,
as a fearless
hypocrite,
cause I am
unsure
which direction
it will go,
such a fan of myself
cause I also
want to know
where this
crazy show
will lead.

A compulsion,
a need,
perhaps a form
of creative OCD,
ambition
doesn’t really
proceed or follow me,
cause I am so brilliant
that I find
everything
hard to believe,
but easy to read,
write, and figure out
no matter how much
I struggle with doubt.

Shadows tell all secrets,
my pen has been
reborn again,
a phoenix in
computer screen form.

so well-staged,
I make corpses
dig their own grave,
while making major marks,
so they can embark
on being engraved
in the minds of
patrons who love
the poetry
of everything.