You can fade into a ripple..not take from my work..please.

Drifting forward.

The nice smell of fancy food.

Fractal.

This poem though great shows the future of narcissism in the arts among other problems.

From thinkers to closet weirdos.

A phase.

Fractal.

A finger points through the screen and at your head, begging thought.

The softy guy.

Stalk in the crevice.

Legends are not props.