In my desperation
for a story that I could tell

I found myself divided into three

the girl out of time
the girl who never slept
the girl made of symbols


one is for the past
when I could see what others could not
and others could not see me

I saw light shadows earth and air
and found my place among them

but assumption and apathy
ignorance and monotony
lured me into false independance

and I simply disappeared
faded to a wisp of self
faded to transparency


one is for the present
when time and dread and overthought
drove me to restless places

I stole my being from moments of calm
and tore it limb from limb

by day I fell ill with stillness of mind
through self-inflicted turmoil and disorder
I found my comfort in the lull of night

I was accustomed to dawn
and the correspondence of birds
insomnia thrived before softly lit grace


one is for the future
when I've found patience and comprehension
long lost in angst and exhaustion

presence and mind in translation
I will live by the stories under my skin

I will become ink, I will become words
I will become the doctrine by which I am governed
I will belong to ideas

I will become a story
I will be forever speaking
however silent

there are no good mirrors
mirrors are full
of morality and preconceived notions

mirrors induce nausea
mirrors take what is true
and turn it around

and around
and around
and around

the more mirrors
the merry-go-round

the kids who get their heads stuck
spinning in time
with turnaround mirrors

there are no good mirrors
leave them behind
with the roundabout children
breaking turnaway faces
to wear the new ones
they've taken
newly born to turn-of-phrase places
all made of glass

all walking a thread
hauling D-I-Y lies
every give-it-up day

there are no good mirrors
only bad-for-you windows

I sometimes feel that I'm shouting
in the ears of all the wrong people
the deaf, I suppose

that I've

floated paper boats down a stream
that led into a storm drain
just out of my sight

entered a crowded room
only to find a hall of mirrors

sent a chain letter
that got lost in the mail
the day after I sent it

raised my hand to speak
and the teacher called on
the motivational poster in the back

entered a contest
and all the judges called in sick

wrote a message in a bottle
threw it in the ocean
and found it again on a different beach

went to a party
where not even the host
bothered to show up

made the mistake of expecting
to be heard and seen and recognized
for things I've only half accomplished

I heard a man speak today
he showed pictures of beautiful nothings
arrows and seat cushions
things that are invisible
unless you are present and minding

we take our autonomy for granted
how often in a day are you
entirely aware of your existence?
how often are you truly conscious?

I'm terrified that most people spend their
every waking moment
on autopilot
in a daze

answering questions
standing in line
repeating their lines

-hello, how are you-
-I'm good, how are you-
-I'm good, thanks-
-alright, have a nice day!-

in school, children are taught
how to read, how to speak, how to stand,
sit write play argue listen share repeat
and in turn, to
hate disobey stagnate ignore want
to give up

no one teaches children
no one teaches anyone
how to notice anymore

those photos brought me back
brought me to the realization
that recently, I have forgotten to notice

I must remember to look more closely.

you know those times
when there is a rapidly expanding
cloud of nothing
and you're stuck in it?
yeah, those times when you know
that your fingertips
are so close to reaching inspiration
that you can feel
that addictive electricity
jumping into your bones

but too far to make a circuit


I ask of my pills of delusion
give me light
give me time
give me color
give me god
give me the darkness behind my eyelids
so that I may see everything that isn't there
and that was never mine to know

the drought is over
this is the rain
I am the dust

I need to live
in a box with a lid

a box because
without walls I might see the world around me
and wonder
a box because
without  walls you might look in
and I would have to look back

with a lid because
without one I would suffer through
sunlight
and opportunity
with a lid because
without one I might climb out
and never come back

I need to live in
in a box with a lid

because I need the time
that solitude provides

but mostly I'm afraid
of someday