Watching the ether wobble
The certainty of reality is not so certain
The feeling in my body
Like a glazed spreading warmth
Not quite here
Somewhere else maybe
Need someone close to bring me down
To grab the string attached the ballon and tie me to a tree again
How I hate being dependent on other people
How much pain I've caused myself through isolation
We are inter-dependent but there are certain things we must do alone
Little pieces of identity I rediscover every now and then
Useful for a time and then I throw them away
Sometimes they return to me and I wear them for a while
Then I throw them away again
The clothing I wear and the shirts I retain through all of my wanderings is just one obvious physical example
The scarf, from a girl who didn't want me for a french ex-lover who was returning to town in Maidstone
The jumper I was given from a friend which is black, woolen (natural fibre) and long sleeves
Fitting all my criteria, from a bag of donated clothes to a squat/ community centre which was
largely dysfunctional, but I retain this piece of cloth for a time
The jacket from an army surplus store in Angers in France, I got it preparing for the snow in Ireland
But snow never came.
These black jeans from some op-shop somewhere, someone else's story attached
Socks given by a person I don't want to speak to at this time, due to a clash which has left a bitterness
And no undies to commemorate my hippiedom and my rights to the realm of free thinking
A punkish, poppy hair do, which I gave myself in Belfast which is slowly growing out and each day I look a bit more hippy
The teeth which are much harder to change than clothes or hair, chipped at the front from falling on a spinning play thing in a playground when I was little and then again from swimming into a wall, and the stains that cover the teeth which are a residue of the capping that was put on but the stains have got in underneath...
These too are pieces of identity that can be thrown away at the click of a button.
Teeth whitening and a good mouth job should do the trick
Identity is erroneous in a world of purpose
We propose to do something but we get in the way
Little pieces of somethings that nicker at the soul.
But then again, a memory is just a memory,
Character if not this, would be something else, and how is that different?
Cloth is just cloth
And tooth enamel is just tooth enamel in whatever colour or form it takes
This importance on identity we place
Is the value put on something that will never last
A purpose lasts longer
The moment lasts forever
If I commit to something outside of this body
That I will do regardless of vessel
Then that I will do
And whatever identity or pieces of self I put on for a while
Are only ever, can only ever be temporary
This clinging to identity is an endeavor to make the self into an eternal inanimate ornament sitting on the wall of time, trapped in a single shell
What a gloomy doom that would be
So why can't we tolerate change of identity midway through life in society?
Without a box to put you in
The misunderstood can not be understood
And this is a key ingredient for fear
We must let go of everything we have ever known to move forward
We must divulge or take on whatever aspect of character necessary to achieve our purpose
This is all there is
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