What Makes?

Who am I?

As as an individual?

Am I all the things I say,

The little bits of kindness I take from others away

I am happy,

For what ever

That is worth

I don't think I've lost my self,

I don't know what I'd had to loose

Is life, something we choose?

Are we, am I,

The books, and words and poetry

Rhyme lie line time

Do were bear the face of clockwork mimes?

Corporate consumerism, rabid individualism

Lust love money fame

Again and over and over

One minute, one second,

Addicts, over and over again

If we are what eat,

Then eat our selves,

Do I dream when I sleep,

or is that me, finely showing true

Do actions dictate who we are,

Fuck, and kill, rob and gain

All the things that will remain

Am I my meager poetry?

My limited language of words?

Am I that eccentric philosopher

that rants in my head,

Wishing and that

The dead

Am I my love,

My belching puling heart,

My love, my broken hope,

Desire disease

Thoughts sins, crimes or deeds?

Am I my face,

A shroud, or scowl,

Of scorn I wear

Or all these things,

Just what other,

Nay, all compare?

...................................

I am what lurks beneath

I am not all these things,

But none

These are the symptoms,

The sings and the condition

Of me, the me, only I know

and other, all together can only

Say and acknowledge to see

I am my soul, not it's rooms

I am that house, that houses the tombs

We are, the cumulation of our lives,

No action or deed,

No mater the crimes

Boundless, defined only by name,

Like the universe,

Of our own, bleakness or fame

I am...

ME