This mirror I look into shows only a reflection of me.
There is no Devil, there are no ghosts, no goblins nor ghouls standing there staring back at me
I am merely a man, melancholy, living alone and weak.
Just afraid to realize that it is only me standing in the mirror, just my reflection looking back at me.
Said it twice to convince myself of a difficult reality.
I binge eat and the slightest inkling of romantic love, my tongue tends to uncomfortably freeze.
Although when I do say that I love you, realize that is all that I mean.
I am not strong enough to move a mountain and I will never have the stamina to swim any sea.
Will in that magnitude rarely exists in dreams.
It stings, reality.
Though you have borrowed from me you don’t owe me a thing.
No country, no kingdom.
Little in this world was built at the behest of balanced reciprocity.
How unfortunate the feeling is, reality.
Fame does not seek me, perhaps it is not for me and possibly the soul of these:
John Barrymen, Hart Crane, Ernest Hemingway and Ann Sexton.
Because under a spot light is where their bones and broken dreams lay for so many of the world to see.
I only want to write and your eyes to read,
But the contradiction of that, what I call poetry.
I am only writing for me.
Rapacious Reality.
No matter the length of time I spend in the dark I’ll never be able to see.
Sitting here praying to a God that its tapetum-lucidum, I’ll receive.
God, he will not talk to me.
Perhaps due to my lack of faith and impertinent questions, my unwillingness to decipher the enigma in his esoteric answering.
No more signs, Please!
Could you just tell me who I’ll be?!
Could God even exist in our reality?
If someone told you they saw God standing somewhere, juxtapose to a chair and he introduced himself to them
Truth is their mental stability is all you’d be questioning.
The equivocation of truth is a constant fault between individuals of society.
Honesty is honesty and it is a lie when keeping it form me.
Do not look at me expecting me to have the ability to read your mind.
Your eye’s cannot speak,
Use your tongue, and use your lips to say what you have to me.
This is non-fiction, this is reality.
History is left as only it can be
All the murderers and murders, forms of slavery, cultural issues, a peoples religion, politics and wars brutality.
Changing it now, forgetting the matter that it is impossible,
It does not concern me.
And that is reality.
Seeing things the way that they’re shown to me.
Life leads to death and what comes beyond after death remains a mystery.
No man can tell me there is a heaven, hell, or that it’s just an eternal sleep.
But, I breathe what I breathe.
And I speak when there is a need
My shadow follows me only because light can’t pass through me.
No devil, no darkness, no ghosts have cast a spell.
The shadow that follows me is only there because light can not pass through me.
I have said it twice, never hoping I can blame something else for what is only reality.