Fame is a mist
A vapour of someone’s idea of you
The encouragement of a haunting
A poison for Love’s wellspring

Believing in your fame
Is the beginning of the end
A dying of humanity

Dropping Love for recognition
Is a glamorous life
And glamour is a begging bowl
Built for scraps
That cannot sustain a breath.

No Condos in the City of the Dead

You Can’t Say It’s Not There 

We Are The Poetry/Utilise the Universal

Your Elevation/Blokes in Cloaks

Theme: The Afterlife