Our senses deceive us.
Memory is literally a process of re-membering.
Present and past remain as uncertain
as the future.
Contradiction inherent in the notion
of self-observation, now realized.
What can be witnessed cannot be me.
So it seems I even remain asleep
to my own damn identity.
Unknown down deep
in the subliminal
imprisoned and raging…
I know nothing.
Just drowning in a sea of maybe,
head above water, screaming out
for some degree of certainty.
I will never settle for belief.