When Props Fall Tumbling Down
You are reading a book about your life
It is your life as you write it
You write your life with every thought
And with Foucault of all your morality
You make do and act upon the ideas
Encapsulated in the book of your mind
And it’s not your mind, it’s a book
That was written while you were sleeping
You were sleeping in an experience
Since four AM with just a candle glowing
The background changes and you get older
And the decades don’t feel the same at all
And you are still writing and I’m still living
But if I read about you in quicksilver fluidity
Would I ever see your eye in this strange theater?
We are all spotlights in our dream, hustlers
On the purple sidesteps of what it means to be human
And I’m not alone or everyone is just like me
Or both, and it’s a question of perception and authorship
Did you write me into your story or vise-versa?
Wuji Seshat 