Filled with acronym, the symphonies of gypsies, the far-off land, calling me. The crisp of ink leaving the nib of the weapon in my hand straightens me out. I write furiously with wit, anger and disgust. I am a disguise. I can be anything. The mask, the reality, the mouthing celebrity, the snoring giant, the fable of meek which will inherent the earth.
Who am I?
Maybe a spider but definitely not a MAN!