Until his name becomes a towering edifice of its own
Where its yellow fog whispers through matcha cups or coffees
Establishes a gravitational field of its own.
Without the illusive, muddying reliance of prestigious titles, appraisal, or trophies
And so the chain of events start to make sense,
The curse within the one room apartment you called the philosopher's desolation land
Morphs into the delusional, egotistical belief that you are a cosmic fluke
But it's quite a gamble because those are the same words of a disgraced madman.
Deep down you know you weren't supposed to make it this far
But upon closer inspection, there was no denying why he got where he is.