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on high you stand,
when there is all but your glory.

do take a look around;

bounty cannot be truly bountiful
if joy is forgotten as most joyful

among many.

:::

i can't believe i committed to this.

let's get this straight, ok?

so we can all cut early and go home.

here, i claim the golden throne.

i claim the ignorant scorn---

the flamboyant and biased thorn

by which, i, proudly cut so many.

i sterilized the walls of the mortal mind

with calculated and historical prowess.

i, claim the power

of how this is, and was, and will be.

unless,

you think you can uproot the roots that rooted me?

or drought me dry in how i will come to be? hah!

better yet---pathetically shoo me away?

here, i claim the largest gnat-like annoyance.

i claim being crazy! i claim being insane!

bipolar, retarded lunacy!

i, am the enigma infecting all of your thoughts.

you try to break my walls by fighting

in-sane? oh wow.

is sanity your only game?

to that, i claim your subjectivity.

no amount of research and awareness

can kill my individual selectivity.

look. do you pick a bruised apple?

of course not. so here's an inquire:

how can the whole be greater if the sum

ostracizes some (pun intended)

of its parts?

that, that is the most insane sane thing

that creates my beautifully patronizing art.

so, i claim irony;

paradoxical pot calling out the kettle

as unable

to keep its contents warm and stable---no---

but as always boiling inside.

those who label is mentally "nil"

are the masons whom carved my name

and polished my notorious game---not me.

secretly, you claim your help

as society's largest apology.

but i, claim no forgiveness because

an individual's philosophy still remains.

still i,

claim the ultimate shape-shifting superpower.

unless,

you can shift the shape of a single heart

in this eleventh hour.

if you can do that,

you claim superior power---

holding the cloak of my invisibility

in your hands.

---stigma speaks this way.

:::

never---

stop looking through the lens

of who you really are.

:::

is the worker

willing to take the axe upon himself?

is one willing, with multiplicity,

to strike the rock-surface of The Mask

revealing what was always present?

a celestial center

illuminated to its highest

upon this new light?

at the center of true openness---

is this soul amethyst?