I am a freedom fighter,
revolutionary in my own right,
not thinking but doing,
not doing but questioning.
I am Malcolm X, Che Guevara, Adolf Hitler,
I pursue by any means necessary
wither wise or wrathful.
I am Aleister Crowley and Julius Caesar,
not cherished but powerful,
yet, still complacent.
I am Edgar Allan Poe, John Donne, and Bob Marley,
I am a peace seeker,
though riddled by lost sanity.
I reach for the sublime,
and dangle my feet off the lost poets peak,
I am burgeoning intellect,
unknown, yet, empathetic.


We are slaves,
foundered ships and choking chains,
We are numerous,
but cannot see,
fighting for a cause though we are slain again.
We are none yet we are all,
drowning in an eternal abyss.
We are narcissistic, Schizophrenic, and depressed,
Although we still achieve.



I am blasphemy,
a tired spirit deriding restlessness and sleep,
I am the deceased, breathing, and ailing,
I am gloom and melancholy,
misery dancing from my bleak eyes.
I am dissolute and angered,
yet emotionless.
I am Ed Gein, Albert Fish, and H.H Holmes,
my reveries now becoming reality.
I am Hannibal Lecter,
a thousand yards beyond,
though toying at the start.
I am hell, purgatory, and paradise,
I am a poet.