Mirrors stand on trial.
As my reflection has become treason.
Iris' clawing itself out of their sockets.
Screaming for blindness.
This cannot be who I am up close.
This isn't who I am on the inside

As touch becomes apocalypse.
Finger tips shaving and ripping
romantic runs down a spine
into an escape from hell.
The monster, applauding my imagination.
All fears confirmed by reflection.
The monster is me, stalking to taking stage.
Every pulsing orifice oozing out reality,
bites and endures flesh.
Pieces of everyone I try to get close to
becomes food.
Leaving the gluttons pink-red and full.

No dimension displayed without cauterized scars.
Deformation of the mind and DNA
Playing jazz backwards as the big band
Scolds its tune from the inside
I can hear the power tools of natures orchestra.
Brackish change, Chimera's blushing to proposal.
This is my favorite song
And it ends with anxiety of a new face.

The mirror telling it all.
Clumps of hair,
Eyes in hands.
Festering humanity in fetal position begging for death
after birth.
Blowfly meals for two lovers, eaten alone.
God's hands in face peeking through her fingers.
Blood dripping from immortalities ugly head.

Tremors of night and knocks on the door.
Coagulating depression finally answers.

Come in.

This is what I am on the inside, up close.
Make a plate for your eyes.
Anxiety is on the menu.