when i see me in the mirror,
my face is blue,
not blue like any music or
                  blue with the depth of the ocean,
    but blue,
like the sky,

like the sky because it's open,
                  blank sometimes,
                  almost black sometimes,
                  sometimes full of wet.
it cannot be rightly read;
it is not perfectly predictable.
     what is beyond the blue is unknown,
uncharted,
uncontainable and unobtainable,
it is, it . . .
                  is,
and i don't know how to change it
     or if i want to.