Look/See
“How do I look?” will never answer “Who do I see?”
What is identity?
It vibrates between states, skittling and shaking, hints of vaporous solids anchor the ends. False states are mingled in and overlaid. Aspirations tinged with hope, mislead. Opinion and insight can reveal, but not transmute ownership.
I have a collection of facts, pasted and stapled to each other in the form of a man. He’s a slap dash creature, a lifeless representation set to look like me. I lug him through the world, offer him as proof. The paper puppet I put out to be seen. Is my flesh any more real than this projection? Do I exist between corporeal and consciousness? Am I the energy that keeps the two in flux?
Who am I?
We all are asked this question. Many walk through life in grace, without being nagged by it. If answers tumble out of the sky, fine. If not, so be it. A delicious peace.
Others see the fractures in their masks and wonder what is underneath. I believe one of the cruelest legacy of trauma, are its effects on identity. It has also been my greatest gift, to not know has sent me searching. It’s been journey with cherished adventures.
What is identity?
It vibrates between states, skittling and shaking, hints of vaporous solids anchor the ends. False states are mingled in and overlaid. Aspirations tinged with hope, mislead. Opinion and insight can reveal, but not transmute ownership.
I have a collection of facts, pasted and stapled to each other in the form of a man. He’s a slap dash creature, a lifeless representation set to look like me. I lug him through the world, offer him as proof. The paper puppet I put out to be seen. Is my flesh any more real than this projection? Do I exist between corporeal and consciousness? Am I the energy that keeps the two in flux?
Who am I?
We all are asked this question. Many walk through life in grace, without being nagged by it. If answers tumble out of the sky, fine. If not, so be it. A delicious peace.
Others see the fractures in their masks and wonder what is underneath. I believe one of the cruelest legacy of trauma, are its effects on identity. It has also been my greatest gift, to not know has sent me searching. It’s been journey with cherished adventures.