it all disappears here

why does it get,
sometimes,
such a hard time to find yourself
in the core of everything else that fills you?
why does it seem as if you're trapped
into somebody else
that doesn't please you
getting so sticky
in walls of unidentified mesure
that would only break
in undetermined pleasure
being such an individual of
concerning clever
that undergoes by
critical endeavor
mid tenacious periods
that will only bribe
the idea and action to
imbibe
all the load of the world
through small round nostrils
that form
a face
and sometimes a bosom of
depersonalized identity
that puts the one
bury
dead
and
gone.
and it only rests you,
the other one
who gets so stiffy
and narrowly
iffy
since it belongs to
something else
sniffy