people act as if
mirrors
reflecting every image
like a real life playback

from every breathing
living soul,
to every eyeball that rolls
casts back a ripple of emotions

sometimes mirrors
are emotionless,
dead pieces of glass
only showing pain

torture and agony
carried on
from day to day
locked in aching hearts

reflections are not who
we are
just glimpses of what
we can become

becoming allows us
to develop
and become one
with ourselves

unity gives us cause
and cause gives us purpose
without it
we cannot be balanced

(b.d.s.)

As I look in the

Mirror,

I don't see myself.



I only see what I

Believe

myself to be.



And occasionally I

Wonder

what it took,



To make me this kind of

"Me"



l.r.

I scribbled your number over, over and over again
on a piece of paper, hoping it would make you call
me once more and linger over a conversation longer
than two minutes and I swear I wasn't superstitious
like my mother who hated it whenever I broke mirrors
and walked under ladders; she said I was such an idiot,
I think it's catching up with me like the salty wind to our
skin during the first night you kissed me and said I was
pretty decent and it's okay if I scribble your number a thousand
more times just to hear you say that again.

Busy without end,
Needless activity that
Has no bounds.
False actions
So incapsalated with.
Fretting about my life--
An unanimated robot.
Chained to the illusion
Of fervid productivity.
Things to do, things to do
Never a minute, never an hour.
Constant motion--
Only smoke and mirrors.

rumour has it mirrors shatter
at the thought of you having your fathers eyes
I hope you know that if you're looking for a sign
you might find it tying to choke out one last goodbye
at the end of the night
you'll find it wherever home is
I know you hate the smell of smoke
but cigarettes are all I know
so I'm asking you to put up with it
you have every reason to be furious
but I'm hoping you'll take deep breaths and see
how calm they make my blood stream
I only started smoking to ease the pain
it was that or a needle to the vein
a bullet to the brain
too much going on up there anyways
it all just needed cutting out
so cigarettes just made sense
I talk about them in the past tense
but the one between my fingers seems to disagree
open your eyes and see
through all the smoke and mirrors lies me
a double entendre for how things used to be
and how they are currently
the writing is on the wall
in every ****** love song lies a promise
to make the next one stronger
and they keep promising that but the time between gets longer
and all of a sudden the bands broken up
and the symbol of love you used to **** to
is broken like the bond of your parents love
I love you is an apology
forgiveness is given with every similar reply
I love you means that I forgive you
for being broken and for breaking me
because picking you out in a crowded room
is something I've become accustomed to
god I can't stop thinking about the look in your eyes
on that night in July with fireworks in the sky
the last time I remember you saying goodbye
because I shattered at the thought of you having my fathers eyes


smoke and mirrors
06/22/14
9:10am
j.s

Hey there old friend,
So we meet again,
From start, to the end,
Is this life real? Or just pretend?
I can't explain life, nor do I have words to explain myself,
Hey there old friend, I'm glad we met again.

In an endless corridor of mirrors as clean as snow,
Me and my friends grasp each other with loose open arms and smile
As we dive into the mist of recognition and truce.