Air

When I speak my mind. I don't stutter at all.

But when I speak my prime being, I find myself crying and I shatter and fall.

The beast in me is rising and I tatter on the noose and I call out to folks.

Behind this wall of an outward hoax.

When I'm out with folks, forsooth, I really am doubting folks.

I kind of perceive, I'm finding that I believe that their identity coats is a fantasy to remain in the identity hoax.

Can't you see?

Who's there to answer me?

There's nobody there, it's just the blowing.

Flowing of informational air and my identity is just that, a flare of that inflammation pool of air.