There is someone in the mirror.
At least, I think he’s there,
he grimaces when I smile wanly.
I’m so jealous of the life he leads—
that place he dwells, that in-between—
that sacred place where no one can find me.
I’m so sick of just surviving.
I’m so sick of all the ways my body
tries to “protect” me.
I’m so sick of all the
masks I’ve learned to hide behind,
the way I’m apt to dwell beside
the fears that haunt the shadows around me.
Tired of self-preservation.
I’m bored to death of all the
ways the world is wont to worry me.
But somehow, oh, this love of mine,
that words alone cannot define
is keeping me afloat—enough to breathe.
So I guess I’m treading water.
Something short of pure ecstasy.
I’m so exhausted by the
times I’ve lied—
and, though I try,
this tongue of mine cannot describe
these colors that nobody else can see.
Should I pick up the phone?
Is anybody home?
Am I alone? Am I alone?
Well, when can I be?
And so here I lie,
forced to coexist beside
all these discordant sounds inside my mind
that long have toiled away to find
their places in some enharmonic key.
To hell with all your expectations.
I’ll construct my own symphony.
In this thicket there appears, at night,
a primal and compelling light
that pulls my soul into its reverie.
There’s a clearing in the forest,
and that
fairy circle’s taunting me.
If I dare to set a foot inside,
will all the beasts that I have tried
to keep at bay come back to bother me?
There they wait around the corner
and their hungry jaws are calling me.
With this throat I bare, my broken bones–
now jagged, raw, exposed, and cold–
are yours alone to gnaw on hungrily.
Please accept this humble offering.
Run, rabbit, run!
You detect a threat and
now you’re panicked and
your feet are frozen to the ground
and all you can do
is lie down while your heart pounds
as gnashing teeth wrap around
your neck and they clamp down.
…is there someone in the mirror?
