i’ve parlayed paranoia into a profession.

my compass steering me to a safer place

i cannot always be found unless

i tell you.

it is all I can control.

vaguely hiding my identity like The Shadow.

cloaking my face as though scarred.

i didn’t make this up

encourage

or ask for it.

there are all kinds of fame.

you call it love,

i call it obsession

insensitive

and selfish.

showing up at my door as if invited

lurking on the dark church steps

near my home

crossing highways to get a better look

writing manifestos

that you should keep locked up

your perceived romance

a violent intrusion of my trust.

having to take a new name

so that i may be left alone

by the insane.

things happen in life

to scare people

underground.

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