I have been the gazelle and I have been the lion. I have been the cheetah watching the scene from afar on his holy mound, and I have been the flamingo sensing a disturbance in the wind, who only for a moment, looses touch with his balance. I have been the stingray that fluctuates between reality and non-reality as he floats upon the sandy shore and discovers a life never before known to him, and I have been the human who eats the flesh of the stingray in order to sustain his appetite for life and for the continuance of his growth, all subconscious and in the name only of what he deems hunger. I have been the Phoenix that sits high upon the tree of life, 20,000 leagues above the sky, who smiles gently and who’s wings span thousands of decades of flight. I have been the flashlight who’s battery grows thin, and the candle who’s wick has burnt in. I have been the dark that was extinguished by my prior self, and the memory of the dark, the strange nostalgia held dear to my heart, the pain that I miss, the feeling that was true and felt, even if undesired. I have been the overly distorted voice that boomed through the loud speaker of the subway tunnel, informing me that the elevators will no longer be in service. I have been the stairs that wished to be loved, yet are only stepped upon and never admired for their ascending nature. I have been the oblivion of a species, and I have been the creation of organic substance. I have noodled, pried, and spat. I have wormed, snuggled, and distrusted. I have been born of a million faces, and I have chosen the one that suits the situation. I have been the ink upon my skin that tells me sweetly, j’adore, j’adore, and I have been the bloodied severed phalange that squirms on the ground beneath my volcanic feet. I have been the criminal who turns himself into to the police, and the canvas of thought upon which he decorates his holding. I have been the closing door, and I have been the chasm of a pitfall. I have denied myself of fruit, and I have made myself a vegetable, simmered in butter and doused in salt, wrapped in a tortilla with sharp cheddar cheese which cuts my mouth in ecstasy. I have been the gallons of sweat that evaporate upon the brow of a stagnant comedian, and the young girl who backs away in order to take chase from the confused boy. I have been the sneaker that squeaks in the lobby of fantastic hotels, reverberating and diffusing upon a see-saw of contradicting rules of house. I have been the towel that soaks the liquid of orgasm and blocks the light of morning, that corrects the fume of intoxicating smoke and blocks the sound of the maid. I have been the black jeans and the white t-shirt, the yellow sports jacket and the turquoise bandana. I have been the fear that you hold so dear to your heart, and the love that floats above your crib in a toy solar system. I have been the optimism of a glass that never knew it was empty, and the shattering of a vase that was foretold by the mystic. I have been directionless, and I have been erection full. I have been the drivel that exposes the mundane through the eye of a beggar, and I have been the cardboard that illustrates his desire. I have been the work day. I have been the glass of wine. I have been the win, the loss, and the stalemate. I have been the gross income of the film and the original intention of the dust from which it spawned. I have been me, and I have been you. I have been us, and I have been them. I have been the bird, and the bee. I have been the been.

And yet, I have never been, for now I am.