who am I this time

checked my ID
reaffirming this identity
simple in its deceits
my humanness always questioned
my memory occluded
come this day
the irish poet died only
74 he had a good
piece posted in the story
these pieces are still just a list
the jigsawed memories from these days
but also from that other time
or many other times
versions of the self
page after page of this shit
separated primarily by material
objects the candle burns
no specific time is checked
on the old form the dates are changed
at random anyway the various
partners paid to obfuscate
and was anyone in my life
trustworthy? was anyone of them
actually involved with me? this
fear is just another burden
who is it you think you have chosen to be?