Oh, Lord: A Conversation

What have I done to bear this consciousness
That You have set within this living flesh?
What choice have I to think upon, but this:
The thoughts that pass through me, awake, at rest,
Asleep, in dreams, aware, oblivious
To anything that is not on my mind
At the particular moment I confess
These ideas to myself? How can I find
A way out of this: a drug, a lover,
Perhaps a bolt of electricity,
Or fifteen years of psychotherapy
To locate what there is that's left of me
That's not defined by present company
(By which I mean these thoughts)? Speak, another.