Untitled but titled

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”.