A Teacup Full of Stories

Hi there! These are the first and the last two stanzas of a poem I’ve been working on and would appreciate getting some feedback on if you could spare a minute? The premise of the poem is both bridging and creating the gap that exists between the author/poet and their work, or how the reader sees them through their work, if that makes sense? Anyway I hope you enjoy.

You don’t know that behind my eyes,
in the emptiness that exists in the behindness of things,
memories resurface,
refracting and distorting into a thousand voiceless images,
contextual fallacies,
my mother used to smoke behind the bike sheds
when she was my age
and instead I write poetry.

. . .

You, reader, do not know
that I am more than just the phantom that exists between the paper and the words,
and that all the darkness that makes up shadows
lurks in the corners of my mind like pools of spiders’ webs;
I scatter their dust in front of you
and vainly hope that you might know me.

You know all the nothings that make up my everything and everything that makes up
all my nothings,
and in futile hopelessness I present to you
through the inconsistencies of words
myself, that you could never understand,
because, reader;
I am the phantom of the house,
the author, and you do not know me.