from the outside to in

I base my awareness on a drunkenness.

I squeeze a size-up-ness out of anything viewed.

could want for things that match 

to constantly appear before me.

for this free-fall of a mismatch

seems to be ever present

as next thoughts come and go.

I have to maintain a sense of witness

to have access to who I would claim myself to be.

if that abruptness arose, say unexpectedly,

how does being a watcher create stability?

maybe it's the endless internal dialogue

that by constant chatter, stabilizes me.

maybe it's the entitlement of critique that calms me,

for I am only tipsy in the privacy of myself.

self-loathing needs a wardrobe change instantaneously

whenever it becomes self-evident,

but carry on.

so what was I saying?

surprisingly, no one is the wiser.

I have fallen through years this way,

appearing to be present and appropriate.

my pen has been out of ink,

it seems forever.

maybe born this way,

but didn't discover at all.

just phased along, 

crashing into mirrors that don't brake,

but look back as if to quantify.

at first I thought it to be a greeting

but realized quite deeply from within,

this is how I come to know myself,

from the outside to in . . .