I saw you today
For the first time
The hundreth time
But the first time
I really saw
Dam
you are not
Who I thought
Suppose that's my problem.

Bubbling cauldron
Of the unconscious
Produce something nice
Or if your feeling generous
Helpful
All I see in the dark
Is vagueness.

I want the truth
but you know
you can't always get
what you want
so i'll accept A decent lie.

I live in a mirror and prey on the weak,
My flaws are fixated and clear.
I stutter an mumble whenever I speak,
My voice always trembles with fear.
A blemish or twelve can be seen on my face,
and they sure as hell won't go away.
These problems and faults just consume all the space,
Where my positive aspects should stay.
But what would I know, I'm as dull as a spoon,
Any edges are certainly downsides,
My laugh is obnoxious, my smile appears hewn,
and to think that I dare go outside.

When I talk I assume that they think I'm a freak,
When they probably liked what they heard,
So it gets to the point where I don't want to speak
and that silence says more than my words.
I don't keep in contact or give them a call,
Might as well just cut short the demise.
They're far above me, yeah they stand far to tall,
I won't ever hang out with those guys.
So now I've no lovers, no contacts or friends,
My head now has never been clearer.
A moment of solitude spent never ends
When I'm sat staring back at the mirror.

But when I'm alone I exist less and less,
Until I am merely me.
I realize that I'm far more than a mess,
I am only who I want to be.
I speak what I think and my smile can uplift,
and I am actually quite a good person,
My looks are the wrapper that come with the gift
Things are better, they don't need to worsen.
A moment to love me is all that it took,
To disregard all imperfections.
I would rather have seven years of bad luck
Than live in a fear of reflections.

day's open fold
reveals an orb of bright shining
day's open fold
arising attired in gold
emerging out of night's lining
to exhibit her sun's climbing
day's open fold

My father kept a rose in his bible
To symbolize him and my mother
I remmeber when he pulled it out
When I was little at churce,
I asked him what it was and
I forgot the whole story but I remember
It involved him and my mother
I can still smell the aftertones of rose
But it was brown and decade,
Withered from years of protection
Between pages as a bookmark
I realized I am the same for the ones I loved,
As little to none would admit it
I am that rose,
I am the withered bookmark you keep
I am the reminder of when you were human,
When you first started,
When you thought you knew everything,
When the simple things were enough.
I am the reminder of who you are.
I don't have a bible filled with bookmarks
I have a body colored with the reminder that
I am in fact human.
I will continue to add to it until I decide,
When I meet the one.
I will no longer need to print myself with bookmarks
But rather take photographs with my eyes
And feel with my hands and lips.
Taste and feel and experience why
Those other bookmarks are not here
But a reminder of how far I have come