A writer must weave webs;
so very many webs
Any fool can spin yarns,
and be thought clever,
but artistic entanglement
takes the true talent of practice
No one opens my messages with haste,
but I suspect that’s part of what ensures
I’ll live on longest (among those I know),
once all of us are dead
Your worth will vary
from one mind to the next,
and you’ll never have an inkling
of that exact value, I’m afraid
All the more reason to exist
as an unreasonably confident creature
You could give in to the pressures
of every mismatched soul around you,
or you could simply decide that
you’ve been keeping the wrong company
None of us manifest before another
in our undeniable entirety;
we don’t even do this in front of mirrors
But the common odds of a person’s dice,
you can comfortably come to know
So find those who enjoy your median
Without your noticing, I’ve made you prey
I’ve stretched you along these sticky lines,
and watched your deepest veins pulsate
But I’ve no intention of consuming
the best of those flavors within you;
what I want is to cook alongside them
The rest of this dull world be damned,
for there are plenty like we
to happily coexist with
Take it from someone who once thought
that unicorns needed more representation:
You can’t lose a race you’re still running