The Illusion of Intention

I.
Under fluorescent lights in the morning:
some “place”, some “point” “in” “time”---
why am I even here,
because what is the "I" that was written?
Is it a means, an end, a Void,
am I just a competition?
They aren’t talking to the spirit writing this,
they’re talking to my outer shell;
they think that’s me,
they think think think think think,
don’t know that I am a Void,
a future Buddha (“Jack” was “right” this “Time”).
II.
Who is really Right?
How do I not listen?
Is it better to listen (mock) INTENTly
Or to Realize that I am a Void, while
They’re acting
[ACTING! ACTING!]
As though I’m a sport, a ludus
Ludicrous means to their ends?