The idea of myself
drags behind me
like a shadow
as I set sails for the sun,
but also propels me
boundlessly
into a shining darkness
on the upheaval
of choppy seas,
imagined
on the sharp tip
of a Faber Castell pencil
scraping musique concrète
across the page
in time
with the organic beat
of a body
inhabited
by a myself
that I remotely identify
between something and nothing,
signalling,
far from,
close to