Lack has haunted me
Like a ghost on my trails
Lurking in the corners of my insecurity
The ghost haunts me, and terrorises me,
But I am fixated by it, and cannot stop myself
Looking for it in every corner
So I carry a little box around with me
A little box of projections and presentations
Like a miniature museum
Of trophies and charms
To remind me of my lack
The things I don't have
The knowledge I don't have
The lifestyle I don't have
The friends I don't have
The lover I don't have
The craic I am not having
The little box, reminds me of who I am
The "I am" that was born from the lack
Left by the separation
When I fled my raw, unadulterated self
Into the arms of protective fictions
About who I am
But these gluey gleaming reminders
Of these fictions, become
Obstacles and diversions
That prevent the return
The return home
To the self that is ours
by birth right
The ghost of lack was maya
An illusion with no substance
But I used substances
To fill the lack, the void
To protect me against it
To ward it off
And the ghost didn't go away
The ghost became more tangible
It was given body and substance
It became like a twisted guardian angel
An ever present apparition
An apparition that
If you feed it, it grows
And demands more
But there is no lack
I am not lacking
I am everything I need
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