is this my life or 

is it a ripple in chaos - 

a haze at the edge of my vision -

an eyelid that grows into 

tentacles and claws -

why do you keep saying

that i am not i but lies and fading music

or the last wish

of one of those long-suffering women

who lived before me and

who could only dream about freedom;

the freedom i have  

to inhabit a shadow.