Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jeremy Betts May 2022
What would actually happen if I silenced the negativity and overcame my crippling anxiety?
Afraid I'll find that it's genetically built into my DNA or could only be removed surgically, it could get messy
It would be a ****** end cause it's not like I do the professionally, I live recklessly
Every day I wake up angry and progressively get to the point where it's to heavy to advance any, it's shackled me
You think I chose this way of life to be what defines me? Hell no, it came about organically, in spite of me
Now it's just a part of my anatomy staking claim to the entire piece of property
I look in the mirror and notice my biggest fear, I don't see me in the reflection aggressively starring back at me
The face I see is dramatically distorted photography of who I use to be mixed with something far more ugly
A sloppy photo copy, I barely recognize this beastly imagery, it could be that maybe I'm just not seeing clearly
Clear my thoughts and rinse my eyes quickly then open again but this time slowly
Seriously?! Still no shred of beauty and its worse if I look inwardly which I refuse do cause I'm far to cowardly
It's scary like a fairy tale before its picked up by Disney, originally a horror story that's been pasted down generationaly
I try saying I'm sorry to myself but the words don't come easy, at times all together escaping me
Then a thought hit me squarely knocking me down a peg or three
Who am I without this dark energy? Could I pick myself out of a crowd if the hurt and pain left permanently?
Would I, could I recognize me through the tricky shrubbery surrounding me completely
It's literally a fixture rooted in my history, it's overtaken not just my psyche but is now plain to see physically
Could I realistically live with hope and decency if they took up long term residency?
What would I do with happy if it moved onto my private property and claimed the territory?
Would I properly embrace the new me or hate the empty inside, the vacancy neon flickering annoyingly
I shouldn't be use to sorrow being at max capacity, I wanted change so badly but it's slippery
What would I do with the time I once spent waiting for the next tragedy to come and challenge my grip on reality
Every catastrophe seamlessly falls into place naturally like it was meant to be, designed specifically for me
I used to use comedy to hide the tragedy, at the time it seemed like a decent strategy
Let it live in my head rent free, the tenant had a tendency to use my thoughts against me while ignoring every desperate plea
I don't want to live in my history, not even temporarily but my mind doesn't work correctly, doesn't give a **** about me personally
Turned over the key to a better me then was torn apart strategically with a savagery not seen in this century
Eventually it caught up and changed my trajectory, placed on a one way street not labeled properly
So I may not come back on the scene, may not have that kind of longevity, I guess I'll have to wait and see
But I'm obviously past the point of no return, the objects in my rearview are closer than they appear to be
And the windshield is to ***** to see the road directly in front of me complicating my journey
I can't guarantee I won't crash and burn on reentry but I will say there definitely...probably...most likely won't be a search party
Is it Stockholm or gluttony, like it or not the recipe for what not to do will be my legacy
The distinction is tricky when I hold no empathy for myself so I throw up my hands hopelessly, never in victory
This isn't the way it was supposed to be but I never had a say in my destiny, I didn't even know that was a possibility
Honestly, if I had any dignity it would significantly alter my whole reason to be
But my will has been ripped from me brutally, I don't want to go on but I would like to stay, a twisted duality
An unnatural complexity, hypocrisy just another personality disorder, a horder of the impossibility unlucky
Adding to the pile that's already a burden to my humanity, no happily ever after, this is reality
Animosity aimed directly at my entirety, to tired to be wrestling with the same old ****, pushing 40
If I don't have this figured out by now what's the likelihood I'll learn new tricks? There isn't any
That should be all I need but ultimately I know it won't be cause I'm the embodiment of misery
To change that would mean I'd be a stranger in my own body, an anomaly
And that frightens me to my very core so here I sit in purgatory for all eternity
Hold your pity, I'm okay with it cause no matter how gory it's gonna get, at least it's a bit of familiar territory
Comfort found within the familiarity I have with the words in the retelling of a not so family friendly ghost story
Shofi Ahmed Oct 23
I looked straight
into the mirror.
Do I have nothing to hide,
or is there something hidden now?
I can't see my open mind.
caught her cleaning the fingerprints off of the mirrored door,
using the ever handy bathrobe sleeve,
fabric of a thousand utilities, this one too,
me wonder, whose prints? mine, kids, hers,
could they not have remained as a history,
highway road marker, “On this site here…”

more fingers, skin-oiled, will return, the chain
unbroken, for mirrors collect memories, faces seen,
matched to prints of hands that traversed this doorway,
on the way to where, it don’t matter, signs of humans
that come and gone…erasure troubles me…not
because cleanliness is next to godliness, cause
god is mighty messy and a few prints ain’t gonna
make a big difference…but

she espies me lazy observing, annoyed, she chastises,
her reproving noises fail to include a thank you for
prints mine, most fresh, carried two mugs of coffee minutes earlier,

part of my daily chore, and a morning

I love you, an essay that is perfect in its abbreviation,
like a short poem sweet, so I hid my head neath the coverlet,
lest she see, me & a well hid grinning smile
sipping coffee even more

poetry and love is and always found in the oddest places….
Phia Oct 8
She covers her body in art
Hoping one day someone will look at her
And think her beautiful
Shofi Ahmed Sep 29
I am in the blink
of your eyes,
Not in the mirror!

I replied, "I wish
I never do that,
Looking in your mirror!"

Once again, she said,
"Never mind,
Mind your eyes,
For a mind
Never shows in the mirror."
Zywa Sep 23
It has to be done!

Let's go: into the mirror --

without a blindfold!
Novel "Meneer Visser's hellevaart" ("Mr. Visser's harrowing of hell", 1934, Simon Vestdijk), published in 1936, chapter (2 and) 4

Collection "Inmost [2]"
neth jones Sep 23
standing pin    with military tension
           a dead suit
torted stance in the mirror solvent
commandeering a flect stare
      more punish than my double could lance me

                                                     - salute
Phia Sep 8
Suddenly you transformed
Into a broken mirror.
All of the ugly, fragmented shards
Of my soul
Staring right back at me.
glass Jul 31
i love you
and you love him
i know you are scared
because i am too
but is this love
not enough
to answer
your fear
Next page