Apoplexy

I care to speak on my own behalf When my author is away from me. Do you take me for him? does the maker shape the body? Am I not my own entity? I am the fencer, the dancer, The gesture and jest; My words are one in the same, Those who lay siege to convention- that gist lies within me. I am a short snippet of continuity, Not the idle dawdler behind Your imposed curtains. How can you mistake? Mark me. I need no rhyme or scheme, For the structure builds itself Around my intent: The quickest of heartbeats, Hair's breadth between The evocation and pronunciation. Might I importune? I'll be but scathingly Trenchant and relentlessly Separating The ego from the id. Heaven forbid!