The Enquiry As To Where I Am

I can't begot me, while sitting silent
waiting, praying, following a road
to nowhere's prison; conviction sent
my release, I'm going t'well does bode.
It be, asked to be begot; feign reason
to be understood not by cherishers,
by friends, by admiration's heathen
sisterhood, but by stamped seekers.
They come shape-seeking, apathetic
to yonder-brimmed apostle jeering -
desirable to who can tell the septic
from cleansed - they may come reeling.
It's where I take my place, I earn by edict that jest
to rise above the nothings, be professed things to the rest.