Audience

I've been writing all my life.

For my imaginary audience,

Those that would read my words,

Once I was famous

Or dead,

But the audience,

Like my delusions of grandeur,

Have only existed,

Never excited,

Only exited

In and out 

Of my little head

'To draw a crowd you need a crowd',

I remember from my evangelist days,

When I would gather round 

The zealous speaker,

Feigning the interest I already felt

Disinterested in the interest I would raise,

And so here and there,

On social media, 

I try to create 

Cardboard cut-out, clip-art praise,

To create the audience to draw the audience,

But the soul will wither

And the dead not raise,


I cast my bread upon the waters,

And if there is in any of this anonymity 

A whistle-howl of actual worth,

I pray my words will die undignified

And rise again in the universe,

And rise again, in second birth,

I was told in my youth,

Live for an audience of one,

The one who see's your every step,

And the blind audience

Who never knew you,

Is the cruellest one you'll ever get.