Paranoia


i gave life to a death star
palisades in verbatim, knee-deep-
honey, think- in oil

my hollowed age-old entity;
narrow-minded bare-barked tree
splits the rectangular life-stream seed

he blew them all back into me
every single caustic sin
that their pointed fingers blamed on him

i waited
like the clock, who does his bidding
in solidarity
who ticks not for anyone
but himself

you say i have a lot to learn, but
i should ask you:
what artist gives without taking
in some form, and
if an artist is a designer of fate
should he not also weave it