15 January, 2013


Meant to be good news
But now it fills my mind
With hope or dread?
Hit it again, hold it in.
Keep your eyes unclosed.
Will I regress, as
Already I have been?
Once more enslaved,
A servant to dreams?
These words are
Only words-
Where do we truly live?
Is it only flesh?
Or at night do we
Become monsters as in
"This heart is where you truly live! This heart! Here! This flesh is only flesh!"
My skin is stretched
And scarred, my face
Is stressed and plain,
My hair is frizzy
And sticks out at odd
Angles, and my glasses
Are broken because I am
Stupid and careless.
It's said to break a mirror
Gives seven years' bad luck,
But so much reflection-
Won't it destroy the soul?