The Little Guy Who Lives In My Head Poem by Ryan Eisele

I heard a voice who said he was me.
And I believed him, as many still do.
The one who took up residency,
housed in a mansion of gray,
comforted and fed behind my face,
looking out from my behind eyes.
The greatest voyeur of them all,
A small jealous little fragmentary
sense-of-self, pridefully longing and claiming
to be, he himself, the title he calls me.
When his gig is up he knows he's through
This is his joy-ride, the end for him is always near.
He can covet me all wants, but he can never truly grasp,
What it really is to be, just be. Just to be is the one,
Who is truly me.
His target unapproachable,
His goal unattainable,
I wish for him to surrender his restless battle.
Liberate me once and for all time,
surrender his deceptive status.
Free me of his parasitic stranglehold.
He looks out and makes wisecracks at
What is nothing less than a movie created by God, my life,
Holed up in my brain, he won't come out.
'I' the faceless coward has no name.