They'd tell you to worship
the mannequins which march mechanically
like marionettes making their way
towards the main stage
But you've always been able to tell
Gods from false Idols
you fill these empty halls
with your electric electives
while I watch you
chase away the pigeons
just to see them fly
you said to me once
you're too boring
who wants to be bored?
this creature of habit
habitually picking up bad habits
like you.
I lay in bed all morning
writing my poems
I am a raconteur
you live the words
my hopeless anti-heroine
protagonist
antagonizing the ink from this pen
and no matter what happens
I'm happy to have had
my brief moment of observation