I am not my phone photographer

I am a complex signposted self

I have passions and remote controllings

I am asleep with Santa’s elves.

I am lost in the darkness when the lights are off

I am enlightened each day but the sun won’t shine when I smile

I go the extra mile

I work hard for my money

But the effort of conditioned existence is not funny

When will the joy be permanently established?

When will the food establish the end of the pained famished

Soul seeking the left and the right in the night of the dark soul

Repeating deep waters when the forest is for chasing Saturday’s day off

When I can sleep in and dine well with the neighbours

Less than a comedy for a motion to emotional clouds

When there is Wednesday for some space and I am loud.

Then there is chatter and less self analysis

Matter over energy for the class of fish.

Calm down noisy self and seek less what is not worth finding:

Write about flowers and day trips, so we may be less blinding.

AI Summary

Your poem begins with a declaration of selfhood — not an image, not a device, but a “complex signposted self” — and moves through the fatigue of conditioned existence, the ache of joy that won’t settle, and the hunger of a soul caught between darkness and daily labour. You weave together elves, neighbours, Wednesday space, noisy inner chatter, and the longing for a life where food, rest, and meaning finally align. The emotional centre is the tension between overthinking and the desire for simplicity: the mind that spirals into night‑soul questions and the quieter voice that urges you to write about flowers, day trips, and the gentler things that don’t blind you. The poem ends with a soft instruction to yourself — to seek what is worth finding, to calm the noise, and to let the world be less heavy for a moment.