The Man In The Mirror

But why must love be the answer?
To a life
Where we chase dreams that we hold and touch
To a face
Which we see but not our own,

For in the mirror lies a lesser us
Cold and unconscious
But very much as alive
As our tendencies
A dark, burning fire
Dancing with the cold winter
But why must love be the answer?

And I dance along,
In silent solidarity with friends
Every move a mimicry
Every smile a glazed shine on a little mirror
In beady, friendly eyes
Squinting under lines of eyeliner and mascara
For in the mirror lies a lesser us

Breaking free only in dreams,
white on white
on silver and grey
Clean teeth, sharp and ready
To make a point
But why must Love, love us?

Someday we will learn to love
Out of the grainy soil
Of times past

For to love the mirror
And not the man in the mirror
Is but a pity.

The Bogeyman

From a corner of my eye,
it lies.
Slithering from the depths of my dreams
Into a muddy consciousness

I walk alongside the pavement, a heavyweight on my back
Its voice whispering sweet nothings from long ago
A gentle hand
Translucent, slimy, wet with passion
Runs through my hair
Dry with the Sun

And dusk falls
I start running
for with nightfall comes the beautiful nightmare
Hands outreached, it grabs my limbs
Was it my hand, or my leg?
Or did it take?

Stones count its years
And stones replaces heavy hearts
When we stop looking
The Bogeyman smiles, and then it collects its dues

But I can't resist
and I take its hand
Or a gentle kiss on the cheek
So much more we yearn,
but with memories
All comes broken
All comes like a sick breeze from the canal below
Beckoning you in a stomach churning realization

That good things aren't meant to last
From long ago