Bridge of Sighs and weaving shark of the moon
beside me glide as i craft bark of the moon.
Days, black flowing river, and having won,
yet all your crumbs lark ‘neath the arc of a moon.
Samovar ethereal this way;
nor rambles by himself at the dark of the moon.
Pyramid chores, staggering chief of shades
barters blood to be monarch on the moon.
Watch Graywyvern dodging thrown coronas:
all his tumors bear the mark of the moon.
I dream that as a bullshit artist i ascend to the highest level, where other bullshit artists welcome me and write glowing blurbs for my books. We are all in on the secret of secrets, which is only that people will believe anything. Knowing this makes us feel invulnerable.
Even debunked, our books still sell.
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