I Write... I Wrong Poem by Boyan Deam

Tis not that I am writing....it's that I've already seen... and lived the vision I've been sighting...a sight I am...and now I'm rewriting what once was, who I was....when this occurred. Another dimension...... to experience it again, just to check my self on.....like a friend….. as if I didn't know how or when. It's not me in the story...the fact is..... There is no story.....'tis a tale of the many ends...and lots of pre- tend ansies....fancies himself the reader.... as the story multiplies with all the I's that catch the prize. But why else would I tell it...I know............I'll retell it. One who sees himself in telling can only retell the tale of one long end, …....as the end is the beginning of my many tales...and poems. Like I didn't know ems. What I mean is......none of this is happening..... Now, ..if I have to tell you it....it's not happening, it has already happened. Speaking of words in present is a fools game to play, all words …..if I may....point to the past....there is no other purpose for thy use...yet thy use is vast. At last.....hear the silence.......hear this moment....verbally.....I fast.................................. …...........................