[Alice White]

Woke up in a Nietzsche's dream,
where the overmen's breathing cease
the equivalent of an ego taking over, bliss supreme
draw the prequel scheme, a sole shadow of literacy
coupled with a torpid gesture, the magna culpas inter leap
some stoic sentence from an ancient language
morphing into spoken patterns, a trunken habit
wonder this time, was it Niccolos or Mason's call?
the prince's sainted stroll, ignited by a momentous lucidity
of politocracy, disguised as pretension's humility
the niche-esque scrutiny, of the crowd's power
the "I" couldn't be more proud of.