Tabo - 20 lines. I write some kind of declaration of something, and you all exclaim "it's breaking"- when finally you see the destruction of this world is in the making- I try to cope with hopelessness and depressed thoughts- bracing myself for the blow of impact while building arks- aspiring to divert myself from others, and do better- but all I amount to is scribbling down and playing with dead letters- forming empty phrases outta long gone words- with a voice so sick and tired of this soulles cold world- clearing my throat, gettting ready to speak- trying to grasp this ignorance with humble inquiries- humankind has got this perverted paradoxical feeling- a need for both good and bad, a god and a devil to believe in- excluding that theory I implode in an paroxysm of maddening laughter- knowing I'm the Divine and Disastrous capital D of Disaster- the book entitled "World" is at the end of the last chapter, better turn a blank page- I'm performing this poetry just to see your blank face- I know you could never interpet the hieroglyfs of this lyrical writ- the wielder of the pen is sharing his cynical wit- a clean parchment, a quill, a couple drops ink- my inspiration and myself are ready to link-