schism in me

I want to write a poem and it won't come out.
I am basing this action on a false assumption:
that I actually 'write' poetry

Rather, they exist as entities floating in my imagination,
separate from the thinking me,
perhaps written by one of those other me's
with which I share this space
and I can only write a poem if that me
chooses to tell this me
that there is a poem, and where to find it.

it involves a fragmenting of my perspective
which is chaotic, but more precise
many of the individual me's that combine into my life
see things differently
and they argue through imagination, dream and poem
and nobody in there bothers telling ME how things are going.
I am obviously the last one on the call list,
but I am the only way things ever get written, shown to the outside.
I am the gatekeeper, and it is a boring fucking job.