Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

who are you ?
this voice that is always there
and appears to be someone other than I
or at least the guy writing this poem
does not have this other voice, with
all his persistent advice and lame suggestions
that I did not solicit by the way

the rain spins back into the sky
from the radial tires outside my window
water, collides with water in my mind
like an acid trip preoccupation
I cannot get this image out of my mind
it's you and I crashing in mid-air

but, who are you ?

wonderful poem, thank you, please pardon my idiotsyncratic reply

I am
that flask of words inside my skull
a sloshing concoction
of biochemical processes called thinking
which triggers my fingers to create the pixels on this screen and the photons bouncing onto my retina, to my brain to catalyze emotional reactions that create the text in this text box
it is a wonder
words fail me

who, indeed?
....
I am
everything I've seen
everything I've done
everywhere I've been
everyone I've loved
everyone I've hurt
an amalgam
of a brief past
contained within
a squishy sac of water
and protein
and long spiraling chains
of amino acids...
a protoplasmic blob
that dreams
and laughs
and rages
and weeps
and for reasons unknown
will pause an otherwise ceaseless pursuit
of survival
to watch the sun rise
or the moon overhead
in an icy winter sky
or to listen
to the sounds produced
by cascading streams
or windblown foliage
or the primal calls
of things that fly
and feel somehow affected
calmed
soothed
moved
by their mere perception
alone

"I am a truck, I own you" anne sexton
I am who I pretend to be
my perception immaculate

I've always wondered about that. I seem to be some sort of waterfall, at least physically, and yes, sometimes I wish rain could spin back into the sky..

really enjoyed all of the great responses...