Is there a genuine,
              Me ....
        Under all these masks ????.....

His face in the mirror
was not his face.
It was clean and seemed out of place
It's mouth too wide and its nose too small
It was not his, no, not at all.

But,

the more he looked, the more he stared,
he wondered why he should care;
it's just a face made out of skin,
a face does not even begin
to define a person, that much was certain,
so he left his face,
by the bathroom curtain.

Lately faces have been hard
To tell apart.


-- Eleanor

Different places.
Beautiful faces.
Night and day
time changes.
We find each other
so amazing.
Laughing and talking.
Listen while the clock
keeps ticking.
Time is everything
when we start
communicating.

Their Eyes Are Glazed With Sadness
Their Hearts Cannot Feel My Madness
Even If I Scream And Shout
Even When I Am Filled To The Brim With Doubt
They Can't Control Me Anymore
They Cannot Break Down Any Of My Doors
When They Fail To Change Me And Who I Have Become
They Will Give Up, And Resolve To Beat The Disappointed Drum

The bus rolled over gray highway
As rain fell from the gray sky
I remembered that it was wednesday
as I watched lights pass by

Strangers sitting in silence
Going home this gray afternoon
Blank faces masked by pretence
Listening to the bus´es familiar tune

An old lady staring straight ahead
A proud and polished display
Was in mourning because her husband was dead
and her children had all moved away

A young man by the door
Reading a paper calm and at ease
Felt like he wasn't loved anymore
and could not find meaning or peace

A young lady with a child on her lap
Was smiling down at his innocent face
She was running from her violent chap
To start over in a safer place

Behind me two young boys sat
Whispering rumors untrue
They didn't have a bed or a flat
and were afraid someone at school knew

The busdriver made another turn
Thinking about his spouse
Depths were higher than the money he earned
and he feared they'd lose their house

A man in a suit that was new and attractive
With a briefcase by his side
Had just found out he didn't have long to live
and preparing to say goodbye

Some strangers left on the next stop
and new worn souls sat down
We passed the bank and the grocery shop
and soon we were in my part of town

The bus rolled over gray highway
As rain fell from the gray sky
I remembered that it was wednesday
as I watched people pass by

Sometimes, when the world is still
I find faces in the tile cracks
of the bathroom floor

Tainted with age and despair,
they are trapped where ceramic
meets skin

It is with them that I worry,
crushed like expired cherry blossom petals
that litter the streets of early summer

It is with them that I sigh
for freedom,
Maybe we have time
but it does not
have us.

The valleys too deep
The dark is too black
The road is too long
But there's no turning back

The road's been chosen
This burden to carry alone
The choices I make
I try to condone

Asked once how many I've saved
I looked up not knowing what to say
I can't remember them, the ones that live
For the saved are not the ones that stay

Six is the number I lost
Six that I revisit each night
What if something was different
Did I do it all right?

Six is the only number I count
For they are the ones I see
The ones that haunt my nights
The ones that stay with me