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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 2


I know who I am
How can I convince anyone else

I want to tell you something
Feel personality changing,
losing identity
If identity’s like a soup—
missing ingredients

Nightmare, waking up
What am I afraid of
Losing your identity is an old story
but in my dream—
a book that was given to me as a gift—
the pages were blank

Identities erased,
re-construed everyday
The question is who are we
if we’re not ourselves

What makes for such anguish
You’d think you’d rejoice in losing your identity
and taking over the carnival of selves

The dream continues longer than one night, day
Different trails, quests
Where do you put your thumbprint
before giving up and sticking it up your ass

Identity dreams uninvited unwanted
pariahs of night life
ID’s scratching the surface of mind
about to lose itself

We’re treading heavy water here
but what can you say about heavy water
It’s radioactive

David Gershator June 2017