Florence, Italy
Funny is he who believes he is something that he is not. What defines us is who we are, as beings. Nothing like bringing about what is you. The concatenated spirit. The candor that lies beneath the perfect smile and decorative persona. The wounded soul. The intrinsic nature of your everyday existence. The values, the essence, the ideal machine, the organic wrapping paper that governs the gadget that has become you!
Do you see it?
Nope, I don’t
Where?
I can’t see it.
Try again.
I am!
There, it is,
carved out in a simple quote
metamorphosed into a catalog of unknowns!
Photo by Joao Melo Serreno
On verse one of the fully developed paragraph, beating at drums of my heated plush traits, I rebelled on my puberty becoming this new guided missile pole. In my adult life, I became him, the perfect persona, the crowd pleaser, the begged for mercy kind of gentile creature, the dazzled narrative latched in a page everyone desired.
He told me I was a bug, the fruit pie microbe mutating into a biscuit but I came to be pure as an ice water in a cooler.
ludlum drive 
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