payback.

from despair he crawled
like a scorpion

to his arachnaphobic prey.

this is his chance
to prove them wrong --

his chance to defy what they say.

my demands.

i want to change the perception of poetry.

i want it to become a sort of hidden magick --
syllables dancing upon natural aural meter.

i want to eat the gods
with a forked conciousness
and sharpened tongue.

i want to bend light waves
around fragments of inspiration

and remember the beauty of the world
through ink stains on blank paper.