What Do You Know?

Confused and/or vain,

Evil and/or repugnant,

Count the discrepancies

And steel yourself for more.

Perceptions are abundant

As insults and judgments,

And finding fit words

For yourself is a chore.

Impressions are often biased,

Labels often fall short,

Even platitudes of passion

And support miss their mark.

Life would be so muddled,

So indiscernibly complex.

Simplicity is transgression,

We’re beyond light and dark.

Solitude in expression

Mirrors bolder without eyes.

Honesty is easy

With an audience of one,

But self-revealed truths

Fall flat upon the senses

Leaving deep and shallow guesses

The best from anyone.

 

 

Vanity & Reflection

“Whoever do you want to be?”

The astringent mirror asks of me.

“Does the image your perceive

Contest the one that you believe?”

Of course, I cannot help agree

That what it sees is not all it seems.

Staring into my gleaming eyes

To glean from them what fears I hide,

And yet I know what I would find

If I looked straight through my mind.

I’m not what I believe or see ,

The mirror reveals and deceives

As what constructs identity

Is not imposed by vanity;

But, then again, it still is me,

As much as I am physically.

Pale and pallid, tired eyes,

And other feelings I despise.

“Why do you not answer me?

Who is it you want to be?”

I burrow through my troubled mind,

But nothing there solidifies.

I know I don’t want stubborn lies

But what I want, I can’t describe.

“I guess I just want to be me,

But I don’t know who I should be.”

The mirror replied,

“You’re lying.”

And I replied,

“Shut up.”

Secret Plague

Nobody knew

The extent of the infection

Brewing deceptively

Beneath heavy lidded eyes.

Neurons distorted,

Broken down, reassembled,

Gestating contamination

In unsightly disguise.

Nobody knew

What sickness subverted

Their pallid perceptions

And drowned them in doubt.

Walking around

As raised from the dead,

Buried in the head

And lost their way out.

Nobody knew

Who they should find

Or what sort of mind

Gave voice to their soul.

Helpless health

Sealed snugly in disease

And quarantined beneath

A plea to be alone.

Maturity

Maturing day after day,

“Act your age” is just a phrase,

Natural action happens regardless

Of any percieved phase.

Growing is a pain,

Transition and change strain

Established habits so well

We almost break.

So laying awake,

Dreaming of a peaceful state

Like youth in love with death

For innocence’s sake.

The world shapes,

Hyperactivity anticipates,

The mind trys making sense

While feelings ache.

Some things fade

And sometimes we come late,

But forevermore ageing

The Act remains the same.

 

Streaming Life Anywhere

Judging value

In indiscriminate measure

Through the process

Of identifying constants

Amid variable personas.

Chaotic babble

Interwoven with emotions

Clouding personallities

In insepid debate

Signifying little.

Introspective hell

Latching onto safe platforms

Expressing the darkest depths

Of existential dread

In idle whispers.

Entertainment

Like an inconvenient memory

Signaling dire warnings

As questionable information

Presents itself in lace.

Daydreaming watchers

Wondering within access

On the possible implications

Of life on Mars

Or anywhere.

Complexity breeds

As simplifying destroys.

Any and all answers

Wither on

Or grow away.

Luna Under Ashes

I awoke,

Unsure of who I wanted to be.

Ashes fell from the overcast sky.

This happens every now and then.

I watch while making up my mind.

My possessions do little to assist,

Insufficient to help define.

My wandering thoughts distract,

Muddling every link I find.

A fluttering flake of ash

Descends and falls upon my eye.

I’m coated in the grayish dust

But still, I can’t decide.

I remember I was something,

But I know I don’t want that.

It lasted while I could,

But it isn’t where I’m at.

From gray to gray the sky revolves

And then from gray to black.

I’m shrouded in an ashen cloud,

Alive and inexact.

A vague idea still persists,

But it’s tangled up in doubt.

Endeavoring to fix the form

That’s tarnished in and out.

My restless mind has overstrained

And craves to leave me deep.

I’m swallowed under piles of dust,

Thus blanketed I sleep.

 

The tinkling sound of water

Streaming down

A silver fountain

Sweetly soothes

My troubled mind

Like smiles from precious friends.

I yawn and stretch

My brittle wings,

Glad of being found again.

Soaking in the pool,

The water crisp

And crystal clear,

I find I’m staring back

At my reflection unobscured.

“Love,” she said.

“You’re beautiful and

All that you should be.”

I close my eyes

And hold my breath,

Then plunge into the deep.

 

 

Living With Hell

Reality was harsh

Recognition was worse

Revelation was unbearable.

 

I could find truth

I could accept myself with it

But I couldn’t relate it to anyone.

 

I could argue

And I could explain

But never enough to satisfy.

 

I could relax

And I could let it go

But it couldn’t ever leave me.

 

I want to be real

To be honest and understood

But I’ve learned not to expect it.

 

I learned to stay quiet

To hide behind an empty face

But I can’t always help it.

 

I need to let it out

But I know there’ll be pain.

So much held back for so long,

And I know it’s gonna be Hell.