Inside my mind i find myself preparing for act I. Never really knowing that the play has already begun, I have played the fool and have beheaded the Queen. I have been spy and mercenary and revolutionary and everything in between. I have conquered invisible and indivisible dragon masters whose fires have burned and healed and have relaxed the bones that used to creak but still are weak because they have relied on an plastered mask bejewelled in bright jems that are nothing less than fake bought from outiside of the interworkings of my brain, from the insanity of the world that the real me of physical being must breath in. The grey backdrop of depravity deprives the mind from longevity and the colours that are built and collide with the sights of genocide of the third eye explode into a sweet symphony that i only keep within me. For i fear that if i let it sing it will be the end of me. And as i dance upon a stage that i have invented within me, i let my true self show to the physical world. And you may stare and mock and try ot run from me. But this theatrical mishap that is the death of me, gave birth to sometihng beautifully and wonderfully made.