Society is like the taste of a dry toothbrush in my mouth.
Gauche, I remain in the diner at closing time.
More human than not, I'm little else that can be named.
With my turbulent and uncanny mind, I demonstrate anxiety
and I nurture the grandest doubt.
My song is without harmony, clumsy but efficient
narcotic and lithe, the consummate observer. I wait.
I watch and breathe.
The present is like starlight, obscure and potent until there is
no one left to dismiss it.