She lingers where the silence sleeps,
In breathless hums and eyelid weeps—
A ghost in velvet funeral threads,
Dancing in the static of my head.

I dream her drowned in mirrors cracked,
Smiling with the eyes I never get back.
She speaks in tongue, in fevered sighs,
Each word a wound beneath disguise.

My fingers twitch with phantom touch,
Starved for her... it’s far too much.
She bleeds in shapes across my skin,
And still I beg to let her in.

She once was light—but light decayed,
Now she's the price I always pay.
A veiled eclipse, a lover’s curse,
She’s the better half of every worse.

No pulse—just rhythm, raw and slow,
A symphony of undertow.
I kissed the rot behind her grin,
And built a shrine beneath her sin.

She isn't mine.
She never was.
But I was hers,
And still... because—

The scars she drew are vines, divine.
I drink the venom, call it wine.
She is the ache I can’t outlive.
She took what love refused to give.

She isn't real.
But she's the only thing I feel.

Against my will, I’ve acquired this skill.
I’ve mastered the art of fault-picking,
I excel at depreciating.

Still, urgently seeking something diminishing,
Secretly yearning -
To combat flaws I’m dissecting.

For some sort of force to pull me?
Up to standards I don’t fulfil,
Down from aching self-worth, still.

And just like my dad,
I mask my sad.

Mutually we intellectualise our wounds,
Seemingly, we’re bound.

oh yes, but would you like to see me smile?

i stand above the bathroom sink,
staring in the mirror
under the flickering light over my head.
the dark circles, familiar—
a pair of scissors, one hand twitching,
strands of hair lying in the wash basin.
i chopped my hair in half,
shredded, shaggy layers framing my face.
a smile of freedom, one of acceptance,
the glistening madness in the eyes unsaid.

i stir what once was my skin,
now mere blood—tying myself to this life with an oath,
my ode to swear, to protect and to stay
true to my kin.
cruelty vibing in chaos-kissed violence.
how many times do i shed this skin
until it's not me who remains in the mirror,
and i finally forget my own name?

babies grow old into something brutal—
monsters that walk this place,
sing lullabies to their own preachers.
i've slipped and fallen and i've been left behind,
but the board i'd been playing upon
it turned upside down.
here, the world relies on my head.
i've got the ceiling under my feet,
the skies in my chest.
every ragged breath speaks a tune—
a horror comedy, ransacked, askew.

anew, this curse—
laughing while running through a field,
landmines under my feet.
drapery of melancholy, slips forsaken, hugs me tight.
the curtain of reality—i tear it half.
hands reaching out as claws,
drawing scars on the delusions.
there's beauty in forgiving,
madness in illusion.

once again, again, and again once more.
sixty-one days crossed out on the calendar
that once held way too many promises.
the ladder of failure and of persistence
carries bodies drowning in trying and abstinence.

there isn't any exit in the end.
the broken headphones,
cacophonies of blown-out candles
and half-smushed chocolate cake—
a brief history, periodical, falling,
hell-bent trying to be treacherous,
reaching out to pull the noise from music,
leaving raw voices, hearing them bruise.
archive this, paint the mess, click a picture,
write a note, believe the misplaced faith.
chase that feeling,
run half a mile toward the grim.

oh, but do you see the lights
when you close your eyes?
shattering silence.
the dance of a rugged doll—
i turned her key thrice, and once more.
better to be safe than sorry
amid the growing legions of undeterred regions.
do you hold her or stay near?

tsk, tsk, tsk—sounds of your begging,
faking every emotion, every gathering.
these masks of clay, carved to stone.
pity, pity, pity.
do you even remember who you were before?

empathy is a sin disguised as understanding.
sympathy for the weaklings.
you're playing monogamy,
devour the strength of the flies and the snickers.
tattoo yourself with flames—
let them draw in the scorching heat,
watch them be triggered.

sinners walk this place,
absent, indigenous—
they'll perish soon either way.

proclaim the promises in disguise
of gods for whom you pray.
metamorph into frankensteins,
surrender fascism—
believers of the wrong truths.
mercy shall be provided to you.

i might be the villain.

Stand before your mirror.
Look yourself in the eye.
Don’t blink.
Don’t flinch.

Ask the question
you fear the most.

If you dare to listen,
truth won’t lie.

A shatter of glitter
Breaks over her eyes
When she looks in the mirror:

Swathes of pink
Speckled by silver circles
Matched by the anxious glittering
Of the waterfall
That is her earrings.

It's her last glance
To hold the spectre
Of herself
Until she explodes
With the other girls;
Prim and dainty.

What Is Truth?

A mirror,
cracked in your own hands.
Each shard shows a different face —
and all of them are you.

You ask,
“Is this the truth?”
But the mirror never answers —
it only reflects
what you’re willing to see.

⸻

So keep asking.
Keep breaking mirrors.
Truth isn’t something you find —
it’s something you become.

Mirror mirror on the wall
Reflect my sorrows reflect them all
And when I cry when I scream
Reflect the way I think of me

Mirror mirror on the wall
Reflect the way in which I fall
But catch my teary eyes in sight
My eyes of gold reflect the light

You, my darling, see me like no one else.
Every blemish on my face—a work of art.
The way my curls refuse to comply
makes you smile.

You, my darling, hear me like no one else.
All my thoughts are sacred.
All my jokes are funny.
All my woes are real.

You, my darling, fail to hold me.
You just stare when I cry,
look at me with those piercing eyes
when my clothes don’t fit well.

And when the lights are off,
you disappear.

I will see you again in the morning—
if I survive the dark.