Here'sTheBestDefinitionOfMyselfICanThinkOfRightNoworMaybeAnytimeSoon

Mirror, mirror.
I see you. But can you see me?
Don’t even bother to check the ID.
My name’s Marcus.
Never knew what I wanted to be so I tried to be…everything.

My mind grazes clouds but my feet touchdown like wide receivers.
I’m an artistic Atlas.
Carrying the sky on my shoulders. Trying to Crayola in the grey gaps with a smile or laughter. But I could never stay inside the lines, so I always felt safe keeping everything black and white.

I’m a magician.
I can take your hat and figure out what was on your mind.
I can turn words into…words that sound like poetry. Cut them in half and make haikus without assistance. Now I’m learning to transform my blankets into straightjackets so I can stay trapped in my dreams.

I’m a gamer.
Turning conversations into split second scenes of Scrabble trying to piece my words together. Build up from nothing so we can Jenga a tower between us.
And my inspiration likes to play hide and seek with me behind my writer’s block.

I’m a geek.
Framing my family portraits in comic book panels and letting them collect dust like memorabilia. Complete with movie references and kung-fu actions. *press here to hear Pillsbury laugh*
A little awkward…past gamer though I never had game but I never minded.
And I study my reflection in self-help books because I think it’s what’s on the inside that counts.

So I’m a doctor.
Turning my cardiac muscles into wood grain.
Trying to triple bypass these lined paper ribs
So I could donate my heart to you, and tell you my superior atria are peepholes
Because I want you to see how I feel.

I’m a photographer.
I take Polaroid snapshots of emotions worth a thousand words so I don’t have to let time develop feelings for me.

I’m a diary.
Not a book so you can’t judge me by my cover.
I’m what you make of me. Put yourself into me and I will be your confidante.
Pen ink becomes black blood that flows through these veins so I could let my covers hide your every secret.

I’m the Megazord (some assembly still required).
But my mind is a 2 year old’s artistic masterpiece.
My chest is a secret clubhouse without a password yet.
My ideas are staring contests in a mirror.
My shoulders are Pringles factories.
My hands are…a little too sweaty.
My tongue is a little confused between what I’m thinking and what I feel so it has thumb wars against itself and stays tied a lot.

I’m single.
So call me when you want.
Call me what you want but I already know who I am.
Born in the Philippines. 1991.
Last name Lomboy. First name Marcus.
Thank you.