the absolute subject

Why is it
you ask
I don’t doubt myself,
again? Because
I am the one thing
impossible for me
to deny or doubt. I can
only know me better. I cannot
refuse to admit myself, or refuse
all the things I am forced to
confess.

I'm the thing that has always
looked out from behind these
eyes, and everything I’ve seen
I’ve drawn in apace, and pulled
into shapes I could recognize,
and beat them to pieces, just
to remake - and I’ve done certain
things, thought uncertain thoughts,
but I’ve always observed a peculiar
effect:

When opinion
you give me is clearly worth shit,
It takes less than instants to size-correct.

I am the absolute subject, remember?
Your relatives are my daily food. Your
reality checks are delicious, yes. Your
corrections nutritious, builds bone and
mood. I starve for them, voraciously
and use them to check everything in me,
whenever I get some.
Insult
me?

I’m complimented you cared enough to see
I’d care. Maybe one day,
when you’ve given me cause
to suspect your opinion has more
than taste, nerve, gall I will spot
it from substance and detail, cry out
and not crawl but pounce on the good
of it all. CORRECT
ME?
You are welcome.

In fact, I
thank you.
*Burp*

I am the gainer. 

Once corrected, you get 
to come correct.