Haggling words — unaware it won’t matter to a writer;
Your offering is… Shallow. Narrow. Rigid.
Its the kind of perspective I use as a reminder —
— To be appreciative
Of not being cursed with such a cordoned ideation.
Your desire to swindle peoples’ kindness has led you to me
And in many ways, you ought to be thankful.
Not many get to learn their lesson before their circuit breaks …
See, I carry a flame that turns your candle into shade
Your shout, into a murmur, only heard by strays looking to investigate —
— Rumors of ghosts screaming through the cracks of a decrepit mausoleum.
I am the first and last of my kind; the progenitor and the progeny;
The creator and the created; a spirit of ceaseless permutations.
A series of complications; A symbiosis of processes.
And your mistake was assuming I’m only human. Like you.
But that’s alright — we all get to be wrong at least once,
By the time I’m done, you’ll know
That there’s a piece of me in every living being.
This poet I’ve possessed, I use only as a warning.
Try me again — please, I beg of you.
Try me again …
– O.D. ©2021
Art by: tatasz