| Still the same old stench of decay fresh in my nostrils, that same stench that accompanies abandonment. That rotten smell that lives in denial of the obvious. I am at the peak of pain without any pleasure, I am at the edge of dissolution about to be pushed over. That venamous, vile thought that I might be saved rattles around in my head. What is the point if no one is there to hear me scream? What black and portentous night comes my way? Back to my home, back to my gutter. Love. The only true mystery to me. Hate. The only love I know. Broken mirror fragments my memories, reflecting a man not so destroyed. All elements of the darkness that taints my world shows no mark on him. I climb the dresser drawers trying to see myself and the world around me. Upon reaching the sumit I lose my balance and the weight of my image is too much. The mirror forces me down to the floor below and my image falling on top of me. At the moment when I feel I will never be seperated from my image, he shatters upon my back and the floor. No physical scar can be seen for the crime that was perpatrated against me that day. Nor not one iota of evidence can be made to make his claim of reality. I feel him resurface from time to time. Its like he is bobbing for air after being held underneath cold, electric currents of self-doubt. I fear he will drown. Come back to me, don’t sink below the surface. WHERE ARE YOU! COME BACK! DON’T LEAVE ME! Oh no. . . . Not again, I finished what the mirror began. No more fragmented delusions. No more mirror on the floor. That was long ago and the tears have long since evaporated and wiped away. I head over the abyss tumbling again towards the floor, I am not on a dresser in my house. I am hurtling towards oblivion. I fall so easily, I'm not putting up much of a fight. Delusional self. Maybe when I fall this time I might be reunited with the man that I lost so long ago. Pray for silence. Show me a light. Make my life worth living for. |