What is my substance?

Found this in an old journal. I wrote it several years ago, don't remember it at all, and I'm surprised by how fitting it is for me today.

wasting away
what is my substance?
when the frivolous is stripped away
who would i have been
another who why or when
born in a different place

wasting away
what is my substance?
am i even among the deceived?
it's all strappings and sighs
and winks of the eye
a fruit fallen from family tree

wasting away
what is my substance?
look in a shallow grave
will she rise up and walk
and come for a talk
become reacquainted again

wishing away
the dawn of this day
this skin is so strange to be in
its barrier uncomfortably thin
to be known from without and within