Neither Created nor Destroyed
2010-09-21

The skin on my lip is dry.
Who am I, who am I?
My perception ten times its size.
Will I ever realize?
Whimsy and fiction, a way of life.
A bitter struggle into ebbing strife.
This is all I know- I sense
a questionable outcome for this existence.
My hair grows long and I remember
to forget each September.
The tide recedes and washes back
and I wonder what more I lack.
I am lost in me.
If I am a table, then I am tree.
If I am a tree, then I'm not me.
I am anything I want to see.
I am everything, if I am me.
I've licked my lips
I've cut my hair
I've forgotten who I was
when I've seen you there.
There is no excuse,
no truth
to be extracted then set loose.
Maybe I don't know,
maybe I will never.
But there is keeping on
or keeping up
and I prefer the latter.
I am everything if anything
and this is how I'll matter.

 

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