An altered mind is a place to thought-find
Do you see what I mean?
Perhaps “see” is a silly word to use
To make myself heard
“Heard” ??
Such senseless appeal to those slippery senses
Without even questioning why
Could it be they are me?
Sometimes I want to be more than I am.
What does that even mean? More than? I am?
But what am I?
And why do I question my
Desire to ask
What am I?
By my ‘I’ I mean yours too,
Such silly pronouns separating us out as if we aren’t from the same soil and soul
How can’t we be when we’re all formed from the same tree?
But what is this concern for the “I”?
Can it be seen by the naked eye?
Am I my political ponderings, my habits,
My social crowd?
The words spoken in my mind or out loud?
Am I the thirst I feel when I wake up
Or the thirst I feel for the things I desire
Or am I the first thought I have in the morning?
The dust swirling my dreams?
The self, why does the “I” matter to me?
Does the “I” exist without others?
Not for me, perhaps for others.
Am I just my body?
The aches in my bones when in a painful mental zone
Am I my skin, picked at until it oozes a speck of red?
What happens when I am dead? Is that still a me?
When does the “I” no longer be?
Why do we still say “she”, “he”, “they” or “ze” when a pulse decides to flee? Decides to be free?
Is it for you, or is it for me?
Am I my family? The love they feel for me?
The formed ideas, the expectations, the things they can see?
What if your gut doesn’t agree?
So give me a minute here
Let me try to be clear
If I take away my sight, am I me?
If I can’t recall a precious memory, am I me?
If I alter the way I experience time, am I me?
Am I me? If I don’t want to engage in the agendas of those
Whose choices step on my beloved ones’ toes?
Am I me? If I do not subscribe to organised religion
Whose scriptures and language inspire no vision
Am I me? If there is a shift within, an extinguished core belief, that ceases to be?
Do I mourn it?
Do I yearn for it back?
Is that staying on track?
(what is the track? Cut me some slack for trying to hack at engrained core ideas that govern my fears)
Or!!!
Do I yearn for that inevitable change that keeps on changing, keeps on keeps on changing
Or!!
Do I attach myself to the “good” change
and detest
the “bad” change
and feel myself misfortunate
when emotions
wear
me
down
…?
Am I me when the apathy soaks its way in, bewitching, blanketing,
until I forget its existence
and when I notice it again it tricks me into believing it’s bought my body rather than just paying rent in my conceding, goddamn cloudy mind
Is that me is that me is that me?
When it drifts away, little by little, and I feel the care and concern ease and tease in again, I run with the joy, I run with the happiness, I smile and laugh and play,
Is that me??
But when I sink again, and I want to stay down there because I know it well, it’s familiar now, is that me?
Is familiar what “it” is?
Of course not. I know that much.
What is a clear reflection of me? There is no such thing. Who even is me?
Why does that even matter?
OH! But wait! Does it even matter? Does it?
Most young people are self-absorbed, self-fixated, self-concerned
It is said
And the older you get the more you fear regret
The more you come to fulfil other roles
and obtain the goals that edge your I to a “we”
It is said
Is that enough to keep your soul fed?
Keeping busy
Ignoring the dizzy
Or
…
Perhaps
Allowing the flow of moods
Noticing the journey (metaphorical, literal)
Not being sucked into a place that solely broods
Understanding the dark that brings you to the light
Listening to whatever yourself is
In that moment
In that heartbeat
Shedding a skin
Evolving
Snipping away at those mental strings
You know the kind of things
I mean
Attuning to the energy that runs through
You.
Me.
Perhaps that is who “you” are.
Perhaps also, what is “me”.