Verse, poetry, smoking opium, and a self-centered train of thought that spirals downwards

How does one write? / Should one make a proclamation / A declaration of presence, wisdom, or of some other thing? / Or should they stay modest and reveal knowledge through a process / Must there be knowledge?
What does it mean to write something down? / Many would suggest that it is to create / Or to tell / Or to lie / Or to remove oneself and one's readers from the truth / I’ll admit that I am lost
Adrift in a sea of my own ideas and more so of my own words and others’ / Sometimes when I make, when I create, I step away from the brain I understand as me / From the artist’s idol hands and intellect and self-awareness, and I’ll just write
I believe this process is called free writing, but I think that by / Separating these lines / Into lines divided by / Slashes on a digital page this is poetry and not prose / Or at least, I suppose, this is verse
Does this make me a poet? / The Romantics tell me no / I shall not be so bold as to attempt to make an announcement on the state of poetry, about poetry, or to define any such things / I am not as bold as the Romantics
But I look inwards like they do I suppose, probably not as deep, and with less ability and skill and intelligence / This line has successfully put me among the greats, as the greats put themselves among the other greats with similar but better lines / It’s a rhetorical trick, this whole thing
But again, I am just writing things down / Or more so I am typing things down / Or up, as the monitor is above the keyboard / How, I wonder, does typing verse differ from writing it? / I have certainly done both, but I’ve never finished a written poem, digital ones are much easier to finish
If I start smoking opium now can I catch Coleridge and be a digital romantic? 
There it is! / The observation buried within this “poem” / Have I then buried the lede or is that the point? / More probably there is no point / It has been too long since I’ve written anything like this / I wonder if by free writing I am posing as a poet without themes in mind or if this is just what poets do
If this ends up as anything worth rereading I will certainly revise / Is that then poetry? / I think poetry is an act of narcissism / I want to be heard yes, but more than that I want to speak and to make things of my own volition / Do I write like this because I fear writing works that can be wrong? / Such as political pieces or the like?
Am I a versifying journalist? / Who knows, probably, and hopefully, if anyone ever reads this, or has it read to them, they will be able to tell me / But again, this is the internet now, so please if you see this, and it has become very popular — albeit I doubt it — / Please don’t Tweet me, the notifications will surely distract me too much to write anything else
The end. Now to find those themes.