Tag Archives: psychotic

WHY I DON’T USE MY MIRROR

BACKGROUND: I am a recovering blockaholic and my most recent episode lasted over four weeks; over two weeks of waking up in the morning to dry dusty unpleasant desert wind blowing into my protected tropical bedroom reminiscent of the dryness in my art-life; over two weeks of early morning thoroughly-scrubbing-my-body-in-an-attempt-to-get-rid-of-the-frustration-stuck-on-my-artlifeless-body baths; over two weeks of wondering where my eyes went as I walked generally blindfolded throughout life unable to see those hidden things I used to see –the hidden world, the hidden souls, the hidden motives in men that cry out so clearly to me usually in queer dialects. Don’t get me wrong, I could have gone down the road of just writing anything, or even a journal, just for the sake of blogging, but I write with my eyes, not my hands.
NB: I do not in any way shamefully ignorantly insinuate that those who blog to describe their everyday lives are artless.
I am sorry to say this, but the only crack through my writer’s block I am having today is a theme I am moderately known for and have been told more than once to write on less frequently.
——————————————

image

(Skeleton_mirror_by_Shadowangel1993.jpg)
——————————
WHY I DON’T USE MIRRORS

I know
I can see you, the sweet hair you pay due attention to grooming
Sincerely and politely I must say
You have quite an assorted collection of “weeds”
(Caution: I discourage doping!)
Blooming in that lovely forest up there
That speaks well for the well-fertilised soil of a brain you have
So rich with “the stuff” that you are eternally euphoric
You get so high and closed up in your world so often
Seeing things people don’t see
Seeing things people see in ways they don’t
That people can’t seem to understand you well
They ask you to explain what exactly you mean
And later to explain even the explanation you just gave
Worse yet you feel so grand and special despite all
In your most sober state you are grandiose
I ask what is the point of speaking
If you can’t really communicate with people around
Perhaps, one day you will feel pressed
But being so smart you will struggle with words
Simple enough to ask the janitor
The direction to the toilet….

I hope I bring out well the glowing form
Of your perfect lips
Full and firm
Dripping with wildness
Is art a curse
You very smoothly talk your way into men’s souls
Almost irresistibly
Because you happened to know the deep matters of the heart
Once upon a time
So, now you can speak like an angel
Like the sweet God himself
So that less than 5% of humans alive today
Can really tell your heart is as at this day vain and sly
For the lip-gloss that makes it look attractively slippery
Hides the acerbic acidic nature

Hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!
Please pardon my sardonic laughter
[Oh, and you needn’t worry about me cracking
And harming you with my splinters
I need you alive to come see me again tomorrow]
But you look like you could use a breast-reduction surgery
I get that you are trying to appear confident and collected
Believe me I know all too well about standing straight and tall
It’s just that you look too puffy
Like the centre of the universe
You are so vain one could see right through your chest wall
To the real intent and content of your heart
Hard to hide a heart so outstanding like yours
Sadly, few people could take their eyes off your awesome lips
To gaze lower down into your soul-pit

I should apologize I can’t exactly capture your heart
So clearly through your vanity
It is so grey
Muddled up with conflicts
Though fairy tales advise one to follow one’s heart
Well, thanks to what-I-do-not-know-since-I-never-leave-your-room
Your heart is lost in the greys
You can’t quite tell right from wrong
You call insane and warped cool
Your heart is the shape of a horseman riding the high seas
Gone gagaciously completely offshore
And you love the way you ride just like that
Your head stuck up your horse’s arse
(Caution: I discourage swear words!)

Oh your striking owl-eyes
Sharp and discerning
Your dewy-lewy eyes
Warm and mesmerising
I have heard you humans say
The eyes are a window to the soul
But your eyes mimic me
Hence my favourite body part
Your eyes reflect people’s souls
You see into them
And play the ball in their courts
It doesn’t help that you are into body language reading
To regular folks, you are regular
To the smarty pants,
You act totally regular and vulnerable
Not even showing signs you know their game
Your cover is good
And you don’t make a show of yourself
You prefer hiding under your skin
Well, that’s the fitting place anyway.
No wonder you hate me
Your mirror
Because whenever you look at me
You feel exposed
Not for the darkness in your soul
For you are not shamed of that
You are just averse to being exposed!

Advertisements

On little soul games: affections

Heart

Heart (Photo credit: mozzercork)

It hurts and you know it
You tickle my emotions
And my heart is sore
You string my thoughts along
And my soles are worn out
You play on my psyche
And I am tired
Does it give you any pleasure
To hear me admit it
That, even though I regard myself highly
You are far better than I am
You know the limits of my abilities
Intelligence, emotions, will power
Does it give you any pleasure
To hear me admit it
Because it boosts your ego
Or because it crushes mine
Yes, I can’t play along for too long
And since you likely knew
I would come to this breaking point
Why did you start this at all
To convince yourself you really could
Or to convince me you are all that
You taunt me everywhere I turn
I hear songs and my head swims
I see people and I only recognise your face
I know I am having a psychotic breakdown
Or how do I smell your fragrance
Even whilst in the loo
Through the day I dream
Through the night, of course…

Yet I can’t say I am in love with you.