We are all really just liars. Here I am doing it right now, being a just liar, trying to convince you how aware I am of how little the truth of my life can be conveyed by the truth of my words, trying to convince you how aware I am of how little I can really tell you about myself by...well... telling you about myself, trying to convince you how little I care about whether you really know who I AM by...well... telling you more about who i am... just.
The Mirrors of Our Words
The mirrors of our words
reflect only each other
We search for the meanings
of things in the names
that we call them,
in the names of the things
that we call to
in our sleep.
All we reflect on is our selves.
All we reflect is on our selves
like stains on a sheet.
We pull words from a pool
like pebbles to hold in our hands
for a time and toss back.
We pile each other on with
We bury each other
in the masks
We stand before ourselves, reflecting
holes of what we can say about
the whole of who we are not.
In a world of mirrors
these reflections are all that we have;
this reflex is all that we own.
we stare at our own open mouths
and hear screams.
We hear sudden intakes of breath.
We hear gaping grunts of exertion,
sudden exhalations from chests
hammered by invisible fists,
or the slow outlet of air
that signs a state of awe.
And sometimes our lips are sewn shut.
And sometimes our throats are torn out.
And sometimes our vocal chords are rip-
chords that we can or will not pull.
And sometimes our teeth are clenched and
the breath hisses through them like piss on a fire.
And sometimes our nostrils flare and
the white-eyed starer stares back.
And sometimes these
holes in our faces
are just that.
And sometimes we’re all
starving reflections of each other
opening our mouths and saying,
(natalie is a poet of immense talents who never ceases to amaze me and in this case in particular (along with this absolute cracker of a poem) has finally convinced me to muster up the courage to post a series of pieces relating to my struggles with the Dreaded About Page and the general terror of Speaking About Myself. Apparently I have to work out what and who I am NOT first, and perhaps unfortunately, you all will now be dragged through the muck that is my little House of Mirrors of a Mind. Stay tuned…things could get ugly………-er)
Do you look beautiful, Do you look beautifully, or Do you look beauty fully in the face and tell it to fuck right off? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My beautiful wife hates to have her picture taken. What have you done to my love? My little girl wants to be a ballerina, a fairy. What will you do to love? So many girls becoming so many women. What do you do to love?