Ego
It thinks me, the brainchild,
the chameleon, the winged gecko,
friend of mine
a real backstabber
ego, amigo, fiend.
I, (not this or that I)
but I AM hunts it down,
yet am bushwacked,
caught
in the bad mind-talk.
Snakes in my throat
lay their diamond eggs.
Best not name these wayward thoughts,
best not claim them,
let em swill in the swirl,
look the other way, say hello
to whom I am,
follow the echoing silence.
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