Clouds fog my irises,
protecting distant ideals
from the wreckage
I've wrought on myself.

The mirror reflects distorted features
as I stain the glass
with empty breaths
I exhale between each lie.

Only in my sleep
I can see my true face,
masked in inconvenient metaphors
I've chosen to ignore.

Forever on stable trajectory,
I’ll never look through the fog
to accept the reflection
of the face from my dreams.