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I'm not talking, I'm speaking. Prose is more honest than its corrections for, when I speak - I am honest. When I talk, I am not.
When I speak I am naked - when I talk, it is winter and snow is falling.
Prescription glasses if you will.
Do you see?
I am a jester on death row. The holocaustic michelin man.
A series of mirrors, reflecting one's truths. The irony is only sunshine in my eyes
I am a parody to the play we all participate, shards glued, sinews torn, a comedic apparition during a drama, yet not out of place.
You know me, you don't know, Me.
Shadows are behind everyone if they look at the light, but mine walks in front playing the pipe.

Pro-poemer, not really.
Petey_P