A child
Laying on the ceiling
Has the look of me.
To the left
Another incarnation of myself
And on the floor sits the source
Of these reflections

There is no door, no window
To this room’s cube
Where all surface is mirror to light
No shadows.
I am surrounded by myself
Unable to escape

I am matter
And being so I am the only thing reflected
Endlessly

A compelling urge
opens my arms
my body is spinning,
And humming.
The cubic prison
Does the same
and friction of the self
is born from movement

I stop spinning
But my reflections do not.
The humming intensifies.
Glass starts to crack

I am thrown away from myself
Through and above the room

When it shattered
My body fell forever,
Until it hit the ground

You got a color TV a VCR and a VHS of none other than Groundhog Day... your kid died that night and your wife lost you in the process fighting your cathodes as your life and your gumption drool out of your skin and into the chair that you're sitting in... as you watch and wonder of all the different days that you could have had if you had bought the movie the night before... you sit there watching nothing every night through eyes that belong to no one

I have a passion for graveyards,
          for ghosts and secrets lurking below overturned soil,
cracked headstones screaming haunted pledges,
          ripe grass fertilized by those we love.
The perfect place for a sunlit picnic.  

Jupiter hangs low in the pregnancy of midnight,
          lord of my eternity.
A sustenance to fuel my blood and feed my soul,
        we spend our nights swapping juniper berries and allegories.
You’re my albatross, my cemetery stone,
          a Cheshire catalyst embedded in my soul.

You were away when I realized it was love,
I'd never feel this way without your trouble,
So I walked back my love alone,
Picking up the straggler's phone,
Swiping new warmth to replace the old.
I couldn't get over your quick getaway,
Why would we pack up on Saturday,
Wait to move out in late June,
In the dark wealth of the new moon?
Looting what is left,
Emphasis on empty space.

Someday maybe I will rise above,
I concealed my heart like I always do,
Beginning again,
I deserve your disdain,
I am nothing good,
I am nothing great.
Someday maybe you will return to me,
And recycle pounds of incomplete pain,
Until then I'll be alone,
I moved too soon,
You say you're good,
Nothing here is great,
Now that I don't have you.

You get home at a decent hour with him smiling,
He scratches your back while you two chitchat,
And you never argue aloud,
Or turn the flowers inside out,
And leave the broken vase in the hall.
How did you get to heaven before me?

Someday maybe I will try to be alive,
Not to die in the war I create,
Memory of when I had something to lose,
I'd give the good for what is great.

I still hate you for leaving me summer,
I can't get over what is under.
this heart is sluggish and it,
Has a temper that's beyond me but you,
Never understood how I loved;
suffocated in a flood like a young god.

That's why I got to alone,
Why did I never let you say your piece?
Nothing's good,
Even if I close
My burning eyes,
I'm practically in hell.
You will never know,
Because you love him,
I'm your blackest sheep,
Count me off the deep.
You owe me nothing,
Pray one day I'll know,
A pantheon that never falls,
I conceived a forsaken afterlife,
Now that I don't have you.

Flip the record,
lay on the floor,
let's just forget
about before.
Hold my mind
close our eyes,
before no time
commits its crime.

My skies are always
so clearly blue when they're not
obscured by the night.

I'll let darkness in
if you promise to fill it
with endless starlight.