I haven’t written for a while, now I do, maybe raise a smile.
I must justify my existence for what it worth, here on Earth.
Apparently all is fantasy, illusion, may I dispel confusion.
It sure is realistic as Hell, oh well.
Reality is the essence of the real, the real thing is how you feel.
My life progresses on from day to day, I have not gone away.
I hope to cross my bridges as they come and go, today a stranger said hello.
He asked had I sold any books, I said no one has any money.
He thought that was funny.
This poem arrives at no conclusion.
Free us from delusion.
1st February, 2018
To Belle Gibson, Australia, fantasy cancer con artist