Compelled
Conscientiousness of ordinarity
This force compelling me to write
Even in the most nubilous mood,
I left scattered, unchecked characters,
Things said no one eventually bears.
Do what?
Go and get a PH. D. to convince by degree?
My friend or foe already knows that’s not me.
Indeed.
My life is asunder unified by fantasy,
With the belief that no one will miss me.