At first, I was the reveling masquerader.
In a dozen wanton nights,
with a lack of fright for social airs,
I sought to receive.
I sought to breath
and consume with vampiric ability,
any new talent. Your attention please.
Oh the muttering retreats,
operatic affairs and
In this way I acquired the ability.
Through sheer deception–
a knack of faux perfection–
I learned to be someone else.
A dark amanuensis.
Deaf, though dying
alive and retiring.
and I carried his words away.
There I was and there I wasn’t–
at times in moment like the present,
I was alight with possibility
with the promise of new.
Nestled with delight,
the promise of unique.
I could never decline.
Why would I ever decline?
I had swallowed the soul of a poet
and could not... no refused...
I speak my name in a different hue
and cannot recognize the sound.