This ego takes up precious space
It fills up the room of my life with useless furniture
Blocking the view from my windows, covering the floor with old clothes
It uses a single trick with astonishing reproducibility,
A conviction of urgency and significance.
Cycling through all of the possible reasons to keep propping things up against the walls,
Refabricating them endlessly and counting on me to overlook the repetitiveness and fragility of its justifications
It will do anything it can to keep me in this trance,
Because it knows that the moment I come to my senses, it won’t have a place to live.