I am a bird. I eat my own idea of me to feed my children. I am a caterpillar, a hegemony, a harbinger. I will take my cocoon with me to the abyss. I am the abyss. An empty space. Your ideas come through me like a needle and thread. Throw my carcass to the rats. Do not remember me. I am not an idea. I never had an original one. Every word I write creates a ghost, who hopes the living can taste them. I am not trying to be kind. My words have learned helplessness and cannot move to avoid the electric shock. I am an electric shock. I lie on the streets with my brothers and sisters. I am a tear in both regards. I am a hope for change. I am a spell in a grimoire. I am a drop of water falling from a bowl,