Nothing Here to See

Stop requesting for a phantom that people call the real me.

There is no trauma, no Color Purple, no Danny Glover, or Celie.

Do you think there is something anchoring my dark and dreary?

There is no end to the countless layers of my artisanal pretense.

I am all fabrication, all narration, right down to an abysmal defense.

A close study will show you that authenticity is always woefully reductive.

I was killed in 98 with Leopard King complicity, a crime soulfully deductive.

Any time a person claims to have found themselves, I know my work is not close to being done.

Identity is no different than Santa's workshop elves, put your saber through by body, I'm Obi One.

I will only greet you if you greet me first, because in all things I am an echo.

The high altitude stimulates thirst, hanging from a ledge you need to let go.

I am not a nihilist, you are a pen and not the sheet of paper.

Consult a podiatrist, head to toe honesty is fake, so I aim to be much faker.

Plant your feet in what? Identity merchants are all on the take, so I turned undertaker.

Death to everything culture shuts, takes captive, and coerces.

My volcano glows like cigarette butts, when active, commands like bible verses.

What is humanity but a manufacture of nesting Russian dolls.

Western society is derivative from the best things of Etruscan halls.

If you think you're the first, that only means you're in line to be third.

Self-awareness is cursed, witness the carefree antics of a sea bird.

Ignore the engine light, there is nothing underneath the hood.

There no greater insight than to view self-creation as a pure good.

I have no harsh words for those lost in the cold forest of image validity.

You either have the violence 4th and inches, or get benched for scrimmage timidity.