I have no idea who I am
The mirror confuses me
grey and a few more lines
I still don’t know who I am
all this time
Confusion has weathered
A storm of 40 years
And no closer to the answers
No further the fears
From my soul
I hear talk of life’s goals
On morning radios
But the talk show is an echo
Brief, to wake me
For what?
To stand there again, the mirror
And bloodshot eyes
Ticking clocks I despise
And love at the same time
As ticking the hypnotherapy
Takes me away from waking moments
I have no idea who I am
And confidence slips
When I hear of cancer fits of dying friends
It is unnerving me
And I feel it slipping bodily
If I have to push urine
Surely I’m arriving in middle age
Surely the bitter feeling
And the rattled cage
the youthful boy
his Solomon page, turned
fallen flat, disappointed
the quest to find a golden fleece
On the perimeter edge the jigsaw piece
Of the mind
I don’t know who I am
I have no idea who I am
I am me
I am me, surely

I repeat my name in internal dialogue
But words as they say, are meaningless






woops forgot to say: Peter Crompton August 2007