A Perspective: Part One


Collection One: Stone Cold


A Perspective: Part One



There's sharpened smiles under false lies,
expressing truth inbetween the lines.
 You can't trust me because
 I hide behind closed blinds.
 A dark room in a shade of self-hate 
 Clouding shoulders with weight.
 My fate feels doomed as effort looms over my hazy eyes,
my wandering mind. 
I shut myself down, turned off 
with a complete physical mental block. 

I can't move. 

My body's glued
 sitting and spinning
 alone on the couch. 

I looked up,
eyes beat and dragged,
 hair matted in a knot 
 and with a glance at my hands...

 I looked in the mirror drowning inside
 from the wreckage of mental capacity. 
The effort it takes to 
push through the loss of breath,
 the complete lack of oxygen 
keeping my lungs alive. 
There's this excruciating pain
clogging my throat as I gargle
 lies to mask insecurity, 
to hide behind narcissism,
 and self-deserving whims and words. 

Somewhere in my body, 
deep in my mind,
 I know the misfiring cells are profound compared to my attempts at 
self-medication and hopeful thinking. 
I feel like I'm shedding at times,
 fractured, cracked, and warped, 
stenching with the horror of rotting humility. 

The avoidable,
a nomad of social construct,
 spreads resting as opinions across the faces of acquaintances.
Surrounded by disapproval, 
tones blurring rejection. 
My soul suffers,
 tortured, and dying 
from the sight of 
my reflection.