Mind
the mind
my mind
is not mine and the same with life.
I look into a mirror
it cannot hear
the mind's eye.
the eye does not see
the "I" in me.
the nose with gaping holes
they go where ...
am "I" there
within this thing
encased beneath skin and hair?
the mind is full of things
that screech
wrench and tear
with this and that
and those and these
little peace is there.
what is the sense
of the where of it all?
its scream
life never hears;
it sings, sees nothing
around inside its
prison of flesh
called a brain ...
how insane!
the Me
the mirror does not see
glass is the mirror
and thus I fear
its not the me
that others see,
nor is it the me
I think I be.
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