Endless copies of my psyche
are imprinted on paper.
I dream of great audience
and have nothing to say.
Instead I demonstrate
with latent power suddenly surging
through my blood, spine, sinuses.
Levitation and exhilaration
spreads through hyper-dimensional beings
with four-dimensional consciousnesses.
God does not exist
but I do.
I borrow unordained titles,
believers gasp in my presence;
sceptics pick my nose;
human beings share my eyes.
I refine my chosen lie
while time pretends to pass.
I possess no hope,
only myths to perpetuate.
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