If a writer composes and nobody reads him
did he really write anything at all?
Welcome to the barren Island of Me...
Scribbler of anonymous poetry...
A total global non entity...
Invisible everywhere but there...
A far off speck on the map
where according to analytics
I am daily widely read...
Welcome to the Republic of Singapore..
Far far beyond the rainbow...
A sanctuary for my unclaimed words...
Don't ask me why I am a hit on these shores..
Maybe spies transmit my prose as code?
Secret messages embedded in the fine print..
Perhaps every syllable I scribe is plagiarized?
Repackaged and recrafted as their own
for massive fame and fortune...
It all matters not in the grand scheme
these theories nothing more
than rocket fuel for my dreams...
I hope my new Singaporean friends read this
and use this blurb however they see fit
along with my sincere appreciation
for taking the time from their daily lives
to click on the shit that I write
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