What do you want to know?
I don’t need no introduction,
No label does me justice,
no justice needs to label.
Am I –
that privileged white male,
raised too good,
a pawn of the system
and our capitalist hell?
Am I –
an overeducated nerd,
three years ahead,
thirsting for knowledge,
dissecting every word.
Am I –
A football jock or flamboyant cheerleader,
a follower, or a leader,
an american quart or a spanish liter
that’s five foot eleven or one point eight meters.
Am I –
A metaphysician and reiki master,
oracle reader and earthly shaman,
yoga instructor and trauma recovery coach,
and a tail of other things, more and more bespoke.
Am I-
a lover or a fighter,
a smiler or a miser,
anxious or depressive,
a hater or a best friend.
Am I – – –
am I running out of breath,
from everything I’ve said,
m I drowning in the labels,
is identity my death?
If I don’t define myself, do I become what you assume?
If I do define myself,
what part matters to you?
I’ve been all these things,
and I’d rather call it me,
my identity are my actions
that define reality.
I’ve worn so many hats
my head could hardly care,
but one hat
is always there,
because I am
a poet.