Who Am I? – A.G. Diedericks

There are times when writing is so good, so purely powerful that you feel as though you’ve been slammed up against the wall and kissed within an inch of your life.
Words thrust into your mouth with such audacious fervour, arms pinned by unyielding art, body consumed by consummate crafting.
I surrender… You have me on my knees.

MORALITY PARK

you-talkin-to-me.gif

Self-proclaimed, self-aggrandizing
self-published, selling yourself
for a shot at infamy – you still have it in for me

Who am I?
you ask sheathed in traced
stanzas
words languished by voracious artifice
remixed for myopic consumers
I watch you milk death and brand it catharsis; canvassing for the masses

I am an intervention
I cook doubt like a junkie and drip it slowly..

into your marrow

I rip you away from your warm bed
and leave you stripped naked
on the side of the road; chalked
out of line
As I drain your ink & slip back down into the gutter
like a rat
blowing an inaudible whistle

Who am I?
I’m the Punkture gaping your ego
an aberrant- carved
out of failure & disappointment
I bask in rejection
while you prance around with
counterfeit applause

Who am I?
I’m the fucking TRUTH

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