The first person to put up a fence was a Criminal!
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This immortality

Some of you create, when is it the time to do so and not to do so onward you, to this immortality... shattered in being, the struggle

What of it, how is it to create in this web of immortality... it may it kill you, this creation, when, where, this waiting, writing is on the walls you ask of you, why, scribble on write of your friends that stab you in the back or the rat that steals your gold

the friend that openly lies to you those that cheat you those that steal your ideas them that lead down the false path the ones that use as a means to their ends

those that never seem to lose living on a mountain of lies where is this semblence of a normal life friends that live in their world and I live in mine for the poet immortality....

this immortality what is true, of this chance to create when, or what if, or, it gets the muse to reach out to you to write, then waiting, you get to higher ground you get grounded on the reef of doom fall into the abyss of words, ideas, universe's

this important something,

or is it a nothing there is this road of which some will never know where dreams met reality in ones heart, a place on the ilse bliss for those of you, that create.