I Identify

[CRNDLSM]

<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } -->do you see this '<!--@page{margin...etc->' stuff? It's a little distracting.  

I think as one poem this is way too long and repetitive, but if you broke each strophe into its own separate poem you can make them all tighter individually and bring it all back together after.

The sky
stares back at me and I at it. 'i at it' looks and sounds odd, and is implied since the sun is staring 'back'
Right now it is the only thing that gazes upon me
bedsides God. I like the 'right now' and 'gazes' changes the tone a bit from stares.

       
The gaze of the one who used to gaze upon me 
is a memory
safely tucked away
in time
being written by another rhyme,I use rhymes, but rhymes don't write the memories, who's rhyme, what rhyme, is this the active present being written, or an adjective of being written.
filling my mind
as I grasp for sense.  GGrasping is stark contrast to safely tucked, are you grasping for the memory?


It's nice to know how he is
but I long for more
to touch,
feel,
hear.  TToo much tell in this strophe, adds nothing


I am the melody reaching for harmony
as the tune
of my soul
hums amongst the broken ruins
of my heart,
gathering in what remains. This strophe is pretty good as simple an image it is.  I don't like the last line, the rhyme is cheesy
and attempting to restart. 


My remains lie upon my van, vvan throws me off but it makes it more real somehow
searching through the blackened night
with some cloudy gray
amongst the faded light.
I don't like the faded light, since there's already a blackened night.

I am a shell.
I am a shell.
Surely there is no heart here
just the remnants of what was dear
and I think I may be insane 
because who waits for something
that would only cause pain
to everyone near? 
Surely there is evil in the want,
the lust,
the crimson red tidei like this line
that pulls me into his fiery passion
as I long for him to
greet my lips
once again.


I'm caught in a haze,
a daze,
a burning maze,
and I am trapped
and can't get out.
There's no doubt
who is at fault
and it's me.
I can see.
I am not blind
I purposefully turned out the lights
to regain my sight
as one does
when they've lost what they can't find.
I'm just suggesting some cuts that either already were inferred or are just taking up space, doesn't add, but I could scratch other lines instead I think for similar results.

The scars on my feet tell a tale
of what was
and the first kiss
that I can feel,
in the mist,
like the dream that will not fade.
The scar on me knee tells a tale
of when I failed
and I found myself
searching,
lurching
around in the shadows
like arrows missing their mark.


I am surrounded by time's sad call
realizing that all must go
eventually.


I am the wanderer in the mist
making a list
of the shapes I see
blurred like the lines of me
and who I am is getting fuzzier,
dustier.


I pull myself into my mind
to seal away my crime
as if to hide my past mistakes
the ones that I love so dearly
that I shouldn't.


I am not pure white.
I am ashes,
the blackest of soot
that passes along in the wind
and I fear that this is what I have become.


The darkest thoughts of me
burn their way
into the reaches of the hold
that holds me.


Surely he
can see
it too.
Perhaps he feels it too.
Perhaps we are not that different.
Perhaps our crime was kept in time
in the back of both of our minds,
winding
down our sin,
spinning
it into silk cloths
that look so delicate and soft,
held aloft
above all the other silk cloths.


Insanity.
This is insanity
and it is me.
It is I.
I identify
with the name I have given myself.
I wonder if he too identifies
with the name he has given himself.
Perhaps we have both given ourselves
the same name.

Like I said, I think there's too much for the content, if you'd like me to break the rest down further I will take the time but it's similar suggestions the rest of the way through.  You can wait and see what others say before making changes, but I'm curious to see what you do with it.