I am the unlicensed,
the uncertified,
the unverified.
I am the otherman's Other.
I am a psychological disorder
until 1973.
I am god, and all of Her domains,
because I am peer-reviewed.
I am clinically sanitised.
I am
entire disciplines of study founded on the belief that
brown muddies the waters
until 2042.
I am uncanonical.
I am steeped in speculative identity.
I pretend that I do not pretend to pretend.
I use the spurious logic
that because a bunch of people stooped in the culture of a culture whose ancestors systematically and intentionally annihilated almost every other way of being and thinking and feeling and everyone else's ancestors agree with me
that I always know what spurious logic is
especially when it appears in myself.
I am the operant spectrum of Operation Spectrum.
I am epistemologically sound
because I am steeped in claims to be.
I step on your right to hypothesise
and your right to know that there is no truth to truth
because my history tells me that your stories make less sense than the stories I tell myself.
I ignore the subcontinents that have quite clearly drowned,
and the Clovis Firsts that were quite clearly Seconds,
and the men I am quite clearly attracted to,
because I am not a disorder until 1973,
not a short story until 1988,
not a community until 1989.
I am a shorter story.
I am chronological time.
I am taxonomically complete.
I am mathematically quantifiable.
I am ontologically coherent
because I know that
other people know that I know,
and therefore I am truth.
I am Philosophy.
I am a conduit for the Planck constant.
I am apositional.
Aracial.
Aintelligent.
Acolonial.
Asecure.
A sense of the asensical.
A con.
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