for you, great youth.

why on this tiny little planet do i care? what about this name keeps my stomach twisting and my mind conscious until early morning hours?

and to preach in secret to a nocturnal choir. a group of individuals clad in dark clothing supporting my lofty ideas. "hallelujah" they'll say and at once everyone understands. rushing to spit words into the microphone, to feed knowledge.

commandeering wavelengths and high-jacking frequencies that dig into your brain so deep that you'll never be able to shut your eyes again. you'll just come pouring out of your room and bury your head into my neck, tears rolling down like fresh rain drops on a window pane.

and to Jack, who i once wanted to be in an instant, i scream that i am a writer.

and to me, Jack understands, and applauds. the whole room rises to their feet as my palms begin to sweat. deeply rooted like the firmly stationed podium…i can sway but never topple. and erupting, the room splatters applause against the white walls, like an artistic depiction of a one way ticket to everywhere.