I have
trouble
being true to
myself
I'm not an intellectual
and in fact
will follow whatever river
takes my fancy.
And if my identity
were stolen
you wouldn't get the money
equal to the energy
expelled to take it.
I float
about
like a leaf
hoping to catch myself
in a tangle of wayward
twigs
nestled on the side of a
brook,
desperatley trying to cling to a
unit
before i tumble
over the falls.
I am his sidekick.
I am her boyfriend.
Whos is her?
Him?
He's a friend of
(place name here)
Forget the face
it takes up room.
Room you can't afford
in your precious, limited
brain.
You don't have room
I don't have room
and i stop trying to
rationalize why I'm still here
and sit back
and let the air wash over me
and wait to get up
and take up
space.