poetry submission

distinct and disjoined
  rooted in an ever-changing sense of identity
      something that won't sit itself still
      won't let me settle into its hollow claims
    swaying with the passing wind
      and waiting for a storm to break this loose again
ask me who I am,
  but I'm asking too
    -every breath renews the question
      and does its best to prolong the answer
      pinning me down with both arms... holding me, keeping...
  there's a touch of comfort in not knowing
    -but only a touch