Teaching ... myself

An Alzheimer's brain makes one wonder About what and who we really are What I mean is that I consider myself still me If I lose a finger  Or a leg Or a my sight But if I could I would not consider myself me If my brain dissolved to the point where  I forgot me or forgot you. So am I just adaptive? Am I just something my mind has made up? Is the me I know just a figment of my imagination? A deadly weapon for a naked primate? Would tragedies exist  If no one remembered how to wail and mourn? That being said, it makes me wonder  What am I? Do I really exist? Am I just emotions masquerading as basic need? Can a human act on something other than emotion? Is any decision besides when to piss Or shit Or what to pull out of the fridge At 2am Is any decision besides these  Anything but emotion? A frontal lobe concoction? Do I exist? Do you exist? Do we

What stirs me from the dark tonight? Some phantom, perhaps Or a hunger gnawing on my spine My eyes long for rest As I stare into the hearth-fire of my ancestors My mind registers only the rythmic flickering But it's my ears that listen... For It It that will be there when the flame dies It that will be there when eyes close It that no longer leaves claw marks on this sterile ground Yet still hunts at night Demanding my ears to listen to the unnatural silence Waiting, waiting yet no longer caring  for that one  twig  to  snap