talent does not entitle and while i reckon recognition would be met with appreciation, something tells me a reckoning is not what you require--sorry, desire (see, you and i will disagree on what's desired, what's required; on the former you natter, on the latter i blather and we tongue-tie on entitlement [do you see what i meant, how it circles and branches into tangents, branches into loose-leaf paper sheets you make your literary bed with, crumpled as the sheets you sleep in?])

and speaking of desire, i do admire your voracious hunger, your all-or-nothing lust for fame and it's a shame you get in your own way, trying to tip the scales in your favor, you don't savor the thrill in using stones for stepping instead of heads.

notoriety in this society is a commodity and the oddity is that ordinarily we're extraordinary but a realist told the idealist to make profit from the thought, it’s the end game, it’s such a shame

he listened