i take it that there must be some underlying meaning

for all your wits.

i try to imagine that
you are insinuating
behind all of this
cacophony
symphony
poetry
or simply
anything that fleets
that spills onto the streets

apart
from the glamour
of you clamour
the magnanimity
of your fancies
i would like to believe
that i am not just
a paraphernalia
a mere idea