that sense of self 4/14/18

I gave up my sense of self to get it.

I always ended the next chapter

of the ongoing story of my life 

in high contrast, 

as extremes of inference without nouns,

ending with a blank yet animated cognitive stare.

only to ask, what just happened to living in it?

the shock, as if in no self-audience of interest,

relinquished, removed, or redirected?

whoever was that self of the last chapter?

what of it?

who was that of me?

no dialogue, just echoes from yonder deep canyons.

pack out the refuse of self, the reusables

the remnants, the intuitives, yet undefined.

the terrain of self is still not hugely explored.

next chapter starts with more writing skills

richer vocabulary, sightedness beyond just seeing.

but then the honest self-discovery that I can’t go.

can’t be there for the text incentives.

want writer’s block as a new way of life.

do not agree to my audience-interpretation.

do not want for the read of it, or thereafter.

intrigue, in the sense of further self inquiry? 

yes.

sourcing output, from deeper places within me?

yes, 

I want what I don’t know to come through me.

to honor that call rather than live out the story.

expectations have been discovered 

as a bad daily habit,

as a cyst in the way of being.

whatever that book is and to become, 

it writes itself in passing.

I have taken away the keyboard of self-consciousness.

evocative is primarily of non-eventfuls, 

little beady nuances 

that richly bleed across my awareness plain.

my herb rack of natural heartfelt-responses is awaiting.

the colors of the world around are massaging as my optics.

all the language of worldliness does not express it.

I want to be off the page, 

out of context as we know it to be historically so.

next has to come out on its own and be yet unclaimed.

there is no next moment parade to be here, 

only now, oh so openly void and filling.

who of myself can be in receivership for that of me?

that is where it happens.

and I have to give up my sense of self to get it.

even though I had to accidentally discover,

it is entry into a world with no nouns.

even so, I give up my sense of self, 

to be . . .