the mirror in which life reflects me…

the mirror
in which
life reflects me
is extraordinarily
unfamiliar;
startled
i wake
and
startled
pass the mirror
and am reminded
of my form
in the dreamed present;
somehow trusted,
i say ‘i’
and consider
indicative of you
my perceptions
of a ‘you’,
reflections
in the nightmarishly
pleasurable
mirror
of these eyes
a 2-dimensional
world
extrapolated 3-dimensional
and given meaning
out of nauseatingly
unsettling habit
feelings
dreams
thoughts
images
arise
abide
decay
all of their own
momentum.

nothing is intoxicating
if you look at it coldly,
clearly enough.

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platonic sickness

if i
only lived
before i live
i might
do right
the next
ten years
before falling
really in love,
living
really at home,
really
with my family;
i might look
at the million hers
with less purpose
and more ease
and she might
look the same,
not yet tired
or indebted
or worried
about
regretted unaccomplishments.
for a second
her image flickered
in my head
half unconscious
and I but shadows
remember
though I run
mental marathons
to re-paint
the picture
theorem in the fire
of consciousness;
i have dreamed
that face
for nearly ten years,
growing with me
yet unavailable
a message
a fantasy
or an ideal
at whom
with whom
i stare
through others
our minds
the same
inseparable knife
through
a fabric of mind
spacetime
i would
know you
even
if i didn’t
see you
feel you
as in of me
a mirror
within patterns
reorganized
and called
the life of me
my mind
you were
were you
but here
i gaze
at your face
in pieces.

i’ll sit here and write nothing…

i’ll sit here
and write nothing
for the millionth time
again,
no category
to fill,
no silence
my refuge
oh sweetness
with no loving words
to speak
i still ask questions
and live without knowing
of knowing anything,
one more
lucidly insane day,
one more
dream,
fulfillment is elsewhere
nowhere to speak of–
shocked
around a corner
all my apprehension
flying back,
so hot
so knotted
obscuring
clear thinking
if that can be
called thinking at all,
look away
keep walking
out of sight
fall to lean
eyes closed
around
a single
wall’s turn,
i almost want you
to come
and find me
but am too terrified
to think on it
for more
than a moment…
oh just relax
it’ll be ok,
the awkwardness
and fear
makes both worse…
probably,
“the waiting
is the hardest part” (tom petty).