In the distance the mirage stands out like horses and cattle.
Whilst a few paces of dirty writing will have to stick out now
Between the snatched lines of previous snatches

Constipated in thoughts, words, emotions and metabolism
Relying on the ever-present wealth of man's creativity
to relay my self-effacing superiority

The snatch has dissolved
And I run to the edge of the room
in hope of seeing me sitting here
So that the words may indeed evolve