My Own Imaginarium Poem by Craig Ludwig

I was a walking theorem; Theorem the Truth Serum--living in my own imaginarium. I was Heath Ledger, a character took away my ever and I was a never. I died; metaphorically. More personal than your person than a man can be merciful. More Percival than Suder like Jude the Obscure. Life you have to endure. At some point, you mature and move with intention. You are your own invention. Built with the parts you put into it. Weird or underachievement turns into something after agreement. The aimless aim and hit something unrealized maybe fantasized. Unconscious promise; subconscious responses. Does any of this make sense? Or is this a rant that represents my present tense of advancement...