Don’t call me by my name—
Call me The Magnificent
Magician Of First Impressions,
where all the world’s a stage
and every player has his part,
where women played by men
no nothing of the difference,
where fragile lines seem effortless
written by the long hand of night,
where smoke is thick and endless
in the mirrors of wasted time.
Call me the Magnificent
Magician Of False Positives,
where anything seems possible
until commitment to the narrative,
where hope is built on trust
and not the other way around,
where kindness is a give and
not taken as an afterthought,
where love is solitaire
and not a solitary place to die—
Call me The Magnificent
Magician if you must,
where pain relies on burden
a burden I can trust,
and ABRACADABRA heals
this feeling of disgust.
Words Of An Average White Male 