The Shitty View From The Bottom of The Port-A-Loo

Define myself? 

Oh, no thank you,

I wish to

kindly,

staunchly,

lovingly,

refuse.

Tell me please

why

should I ever wish to

define myself

and in doing so

contain,

box,

mould and set

myself into

something, someone,

who I move away

from with

each passing moment

(it’s called evolving).

Surely if I say

I am he, she, this or that

you will arrive on my doorstep

with preconceived

ideologies of

who, what, when, why and how

I should be acting.

No thank you.

There are already

too many narrow-minded,

blind to reality,

folk in this world.

I don’t want none

knockin’ on my door late at night,

preachin' at me the many layers,

of how not to live side by side

and how not to be in love with

all in existence.

Oh dear,

not only do

I find myself yawning

at the very concept

of self-definition

purely out of

boredom's sake,

I also quite honestly feel,

it is a mix of

three day old

human faeces

found at the

bottom of an

unkempt port-a-loo

SHIT!

YES! 

It’s all shit!

The faeces no longer needed,

cast out,

expelled,

SHIT remains - -

we move on.

My goal has never been

to see the view from

the bottom of a port-a-loo - 

Stale,

stagnant -

- just like self-definition.

Find me instead,

in the river,

you know the one,

beyond definition.

I shall be there

naked and

floating

formless - 

free - 

come anytime and jump in!