I should not be allowed outside
driving down Lakeshore Drive.
I should be in a hospital room.
Padded.
Soft.

It feels like my personality could fly apart.
What happens when you lose your inner voice;
when there is no light or inner glow?

I think of all the different snapshots people get of me.
So different in different in spaces.
I pull the collage together and
who is this chimerical man?
Who could know him or understand?

Erase all the photos and what is left?
Who is there when there is no self?
What is a self not recognized?