Suffocating off the will to be,  a window, a mirror, a vision of who I could be, the me that could be me, the impossible fortune, the man I don’t know, the mythical version like the bigfoot of old, the forever lie that I wish could be mine, for to die within the lie, without living the dream, seems pitifully useless, for a lie, with no purpose, a lie without design, is a lie that is no lie at it, it is the truth, that you live within…