I made her feel wanted
when SHE was in need.

Every time I look in the mirror,
I can see a monster in the reflection in the pupil of my eye.
He’s keeping me locked in the closet,
and he’s telling me not to cry.
He’s cutting up my arms and pouring alcohol on them,
he’s telling me to hide.
He’s burning down the house he built
with his family still inside.
I realize that he isn't just in my eyes,
though to the outside world,
he vanished without a trace.
I am the spitting image of him,
and this is why I hate my face.

751

My Worthiness is all my Doubt—
His Merit—all my fear—
Contrasting which, my quality
Do lowlier—appear—

Lest I should insufficient prove
For His beloved Need—
The Chiefest Apprehension
Upon my thronging Mind—

’Tis true—that Deity to stoop
Inherently incline—
For nothing higher than Itself
Itself can rest upon—

So I—the undivine abode
Of His Elect Content—
Conform my Soul—as ’twere a Church,
Unto Her Sacrament—

Started but unfinished.
Built up then diminished.
Transfixed by astral bodies
on their way to undetermined destinations.
Dilated. Validated. Consecrated and interred.
Discovered cavern never entered.
Nothing and always all at once.
Everything is everything.
Still dreaming after being woken up.
Anything as everything.
A beginning and an end.
The journey taken in-between;
that's the key:
Existing.

it is not important to wear a title
- I am a butcher
-I am a sailor
-I am a housewife
No, you are not your health
or lack of it
You are not your failings
or your successes

You are much more than all these things