Is that my face
in the mirror
are those my eyes looking at me
with banal, boring indifference?
I reach out my hand, draw it back, extend a finger
tap, tap, tap
Is anybody home?
Are those my teeth,
is that my hair
when did those lines around my mouth appear?
That can’t be me
that tired listless, expressionless face
has it ever dreamed, schemed or plotted
an escape, a murder or revenge?
Tap tap tap
against the mirror
clouding it with the cold that escapes from my lungs
and clings to it like poison gas
on a battlefield
from Once Upon A Time.
That can’t be my face.
It’s just to-
DAILY ADDICTIONS: LOUD