{revised version}

So,
You're back to question me
About this litny of negativity
To discover who or what misled me
But I know exactly who done it
Let me clear up the conspiracy theory
Place me in font of a mirror and look closely
Who do you see?
Me?
That's correct, very good, but the rest of the frame isn't empty
Take notice of the oblivious guilty party directly behind me
Particularly the one with the nerve to be judging me
Here,
Let me get out of the picture so the visual can be absorbed entirely

©2024

Mirror, mirror on the wall,
reflect the stranger within my soul.
Unveil my strength, my grace,
expose my scars and flaws and all.

We are all hiding something aren't we?
Let's be fair
From the moment we wake and look in that mirror
We rush to change what we first see there
All we do is spin our little lies
**** in that gut,
Color that hair,
Twist off that wedding ring,
Pretend to not care
And why not?
What's the penalty?
What are the consequences, really?
All is forgiven when you start usin' the phrase
"I'm only human"
But what if the cruel hand of fate twists you into something different then what you've been?
Into that undesirable other
Who, if anyone, will forgive you then?

©2024

The way you perceive me,
is different from how I perceive you.
You were always my best friend forever
But to you I was just a fill-in to use.

The hardest part about accepting this
Was due to all of your contradictions.
You can't tell me you faked who you were
Then say you still want to live together

You can't say you see me like a sister
But have never been your true self with me.
I lived feeling your feelings for years,
Comforting and entrusting someone  who saw me as a shattered mirror.

It doesn't bring up anger for me anymore,
But sadness and grief is always outside my door.
The most painful thing I have ever felt in my life, Is learning that perception can cause so much strife.

What would actually happen if I silenced the negativity and overcame my crippling anxiety?
Afraid I'll find that it's genetically built into my DNA or could only be removed surgically, it could get messy
It would be a ****** end cause it's not like I do the professionally, I live recklessly
Every day I wake up angry and progressively get to the point where it's to heavy to advance any, it's shackled me
You think I chose this way of life to be what defines me? Hell no, it came about organically, in spite of me
Now it's just a part of my anatomy staking claim to the entire piece of property
I look in the mirror and notice my biggest fear, I don't see me in the reflection aggressively starring back at me
The face I see is dramatically distorted photography of who I use to be mixed with something far more ugly
A sloppy photo copy, I barely recognize this beastly imagery, it could be that maybe I'm just not seeing clearly
Clear my thoughts and rinse my eyes quickly then open again but this time slowly
Seriously?! Still no shred of beauty and its worse if I look inwardly which I refuse do cause I'm far to cowardly
It's scary like a fairy tale before its picked up by Disney, originally a horror story that's been pasted down generationaly
I try saying I'm sorry to myself but the words don't come easy, at times all together escaping me
Then a thought hit me squarely knocking me down a peg or three
Who am I without this dark energy? Could I pick myself out of a crowd if the hurt and pain left permanently?
Would I, could I recognize me through the tricky shrubbery surrounding me completely
It's literally a fixture rooted in my history, it's overtaken not just my psyche but is now plain to see physically
Could I realistically live with hope and decency if they took up long term residency?
What would I do with happy if it moved onto my private property and claimed the territory?
Would I properly embrace the new me or hate the empty inside, the vacancy neon flickering annoyingly
I shouldn't be use to sorrow being at max capacity, I wanted change so badly but it's slippery
What would I do with the time I once spent waiting for the next tragedy to come and challenge my grip on reality
Every catastrophe seamlessly falls into place naturally like it was meant to be, designed specifically for me
I used to use comedy to hide the tragedy, at the time it seemed like a decent strategy
Let it live in my head rent free, the tenant had a tendency to use my thoughts against me while ignoring every desperate plea
I don't want to live in my history, not even temporarily but my mind doesn't work correctly, doesn't give a **** about me personally
Turned over the key to a better me then was torn apart strategically with a savagery not seen in this century
Eventually it caught up and changed my trajectory, placed on a one way street not labeled properly
So I may not come back on the scene, may not have that kind of longevity, I guess I'll have to wait and see
But I'm obviously past the point of no return, the objects in my rearview are closer than they appear to be
And the windshield is to ***** to see the road directly in front of me complicating my journey
I can't guarantee I won't crash and burn on reentry but I will say there definitely...probably...most likely won't be a search party
Is it Stockholm or gluttony, like it or not the recipe for what not to do will be my legacy
The distinction is tricky when I hold no empathy for myself so I throw up my hands hopelessly, never in victory
This isn't the way it was supposed to be but I never had a say in my destiny, I didn't even know that was a possibility
Honestly, if I had any dignity it would significantly alter my whole reason to be
But my will has been ripped from me brutally, I don't want to go on but I would like to stay, a twisted duality
An unnatural complexity, hypocrisy just another personality disorder, a horder of the impossibility unlucky
Adding to the pile that's already a burden to my humanity, no happily ever after, this is reality
Animosity aimed directly at my entirety, to tired to be wrestling with the same old ****, pushing 40
If I don't have this figured out by now what's the likelihood I'll learn new tricks? There isn't any
That should be all I need but ultimately I know it won't be cause I'm the embodiment of misery
To change that would mean I'd be a stranger in my own body, an anomaly
And that frightens me to my very core so here I sit in purgatory for all eternity
Hold your pity, I'm okay with it cause no matter how gory it's gonna get, at least it's a bit of familiar territory
Comfort found within the familiarity I have with the words in the retelling of a not so family friendly ghost story

©2022

caught her cleaning the fingerprints off of the mirrored door,
using the ever handy bathrobe sleeve,
fabric of a thousand utilities, this one too,
me wonder, whose prints? mine, kids, hers,
could they not have remained as a history,
highway road marker, “On this site here…”

more fingers, skin-oiled, will return, the chain
unbroken, for mirrors collect memories, faces seen,
matched to prints of hands that traversed this doorway,
on the way to where, it don’t matter, signs of humans
that come and gone…erasure troubles me…not
because cleanliness is next to godliness, cause
god is mighty messy and a few prints ain’t gonna
make a big difference…but

she espies me lazy observing, annoyed, she chastises,
her reproving noises fail to include a thank you for
prints mine, most fresh, carried two mugs of coffee minutes earlier,

part of my daily chore, and a morning
I love you, an essay that is perfect in its abbreviation,
like a short poem sweet, so I hid my head neath the coverlet,
lest she see, me & a well hid grinning smile
sipping coffee even more
contentedly

poetry and love is and always found in the oddest places….