all content lies 5/28/16

from my eyes and ears of experience

all of content is ever this room-full of voices

all talking in my head at once, both louder, softer

fixating me on their view, but just yack in my ear

then my account of anything is their distorted view

the court of law for this moment finds me

unreliable as a witness to this realism 

everything I identify has a face of passivity

but yet a loud continuous whisper inside me

they all talk at once, baiting me

waiting indifferently on my next move as sanity,

I am fronting their lie, our collusion as a conspiracy, 

the optics, as I have it, is to distort to confirm me

these as a swarm of pseudo-conformations on my behalf

Inanimate objects are the worst, as indifferently so

they are lifeless to act in my world on their own

then there is nature that sort of interrelates with me

but their attention is on something more deeply rooted

beyond my attention span and needs

and then there are animals, creatures, varied in kind

oh I have hope with almost every one as encountered

translate their movements into gestures,

their sounds into responsive speech with me

but all is as content, inanimates, nature’s wildness,

and all these creatures, they all exist as content, that lie

to speak the truth of me, is our collusion

oh yes, we agree to agree but not the truth of our beings

my accounts have depictions, references, personalizations

we are not the same to each other by experience of itself

all the content, composed of this consciousness, lies.

I can’t tell you the truth, I can only live myself as it

I have no content

I come from before content

but language will not help me express that

language codifies my existence at the mercy of content

for me, as bafflement’s prison and no one seems the wiser

content is my body of knowledge as I live into it

life is not a means of getting this conundrum out of me           

no, I am not blaming anyone or anything

for there is no wrong place or wrong time

but if truth be told, as in the content of telling

I can’t wear this well and feel at home within me . . .