What am I? Who am I?
I'm just flesh, blood and bones?
I have a brain, I'm taught to think, I'm taught to love?
I attempt to write poetry, perhaps I do write poetry.
I create art, I think its good, some even great.
I don't show in galleries, I don't show in museums.
I work Monday thru Friday.
I love and hate.
I hate and love.
I even masturbate.
But really, who am I?
But just flesh and blood and bones.
Could I be anything if you were not here?
The one I'm talking too?
Would I be nothing without an audience?
Without participation?
A viewer? A listener?
Who am I?
What am I doing here?
Why am I here and not there - right now?

These are all unanswered questions.

© 2008 David Greg Harth
08.05.12.13:31:01@599NYC