IT is a practice that I feel connected to 
A routine that I am attached to 
A habit that I’ve become addicted to 
A gift and a curse that I am entangled to

IT: a surface shifter with a great power of attraction
I: a shape shifter with multiple stages of evolution
Probably a butterfly surviving day by day against predation
Both: Projections of the same entity in different dimensions 

I: self-claimed “the most evolved of all earthly beings
Appears as a 3D package having a soul, a spirit and a body
IT: untouchable, flat, concave, convex, shallow, deep, wavy
A ghost, a double, a projection, a reflection… maybe me

IT and I are more or less the same
I only recognize my self through IT’s surface
IT has known I way before my senses were awake
Now when I look at IT, I see my own face

IT… only IT listens to me when I don’t speak
IT is magnetic so I must be a man of steel
Ironic how IT keeps me company when I’m lonely
IT makes me believe together is all we need

IT sets me apart from me like weed from weed
IT intensifies my senses; ITs experience is psychedelic
IT brings my inner persona to life- eric the cynic
IT is the only one to accommodate his logic

I go to the bathroom sometimes just to be with IT
Deep in my reflexion, I see ITs mind: very artistic
The more time I spend with IT, the more I love IT
The more I realize IT is not a space, IT is energy 

IT will never leave me; IT’s not just a part of me, IT is me
IT would never deceive me; It shows me what I wanna see
IT makes I feel what I wanna feel, hear what I wanna hear
So when I ask IT, “Who am I?” It says “Goddamn, you’re the shit!”

I love girls with big eyes for I easily see my silhouette in ’em
I love rivers, lakes, seas and oceans yet I wouldn’t get wet in ’em
In a group discussion, I would focus on my what to say rather than listen 
In a group picture that I’m in, I am the first focus that I zoom in

Self love is a gift and a curse, IT’s sweet and addictive
IT makes you use the needle more often than a type 1 diabetic 
And like any addiction, IT is highly destructive 
IT is the worst prison coz freedom is within the captive 

I’m aware this feather of mine can take me higher than Icarus’ wings
For in this league of modern poetry, I’m a young Julius Erving
But I must confess that IT scares me to realize that I am my own nemesis
How can I find inner peace when the best and the worst in me coexist?

As my ego grows huge, my humility deceases
I have to lose something for every glory that I seize
This is a minor truce, the battle never ceases
A moment of truth; these are Confessions Of a Narcissist