PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I’ve seen the face of what you call evil. I saw a child. I’ve seen the face of what you call god. I saw a beast. Now I look into the mirror having looked everywhere else. To look upon what I never could bring m yself to see in the grip of the child beast. Now I see. He looks back at me. Man of the mirrored world. My dream or am I his. In his eyes I see bright suns. I see dark wells. Buried hopes and afternoon bells. Eyes that hunger. Voids that bind. Watching, looking and seeing much. Hearing more. Listener.

Speak, dear Listener. Let us hear your voice. Hoarse with disuse. Speaking trembling truths. Fragile things they are. If not held with the tender care of a nurturing mother they shatter.  Broken shards slicing flesh. Blood seekers. Thirsting purchase. To be whole again. A glass eye for the golem. Golem of stone. Immutable in insanity. Fret not monstrosity, what is seen is within and what is without is never seen. For this is sight. Cast away your eyes. Crush them against the bedrock. Crush to dust. Crush to sand once again. For eyes blind with sights. Listen well Listener, listen. Listen to the shadow hooded gift. A cursed thing. Life is. Gifts can be returned.  Gifts can be denied.

What is your name, mirrored man? Where is this place?

I am you but you are not you. You are me. Your a lie they’ve told. A lie they’ve conjured for themselves. A delusion. An illusion. I’ll wake you with laughter. Mock you ceaselessly till you wake. Shadowy whispers and slithering doubts. Worming into your mind. The worst kinds of torture. The ones that leave scars in places that can never heal. Places that are best left lost. Haunt your mind with truths left unspoken. Unthought. Lost. I’ll hunt you with these shards. Hunt you till you grow weary. Grow weary of running away from what you should fall into. Only because you were told to. So tire young child. Fall to the earth. Fall to your knees.

As I plunge these shards into your flesh. They will feed on your empty warmth. Drink in your scarlet tears. They will become whole again. So keep them safe. Keep them guarded from the rats that circle your feet. Nibbling at fleshy toes. Consumed by hunger and fear. Bite and run. Savouring their little nuggets of flesh as feasts grand. Piteous. You were a rat once. You have no right to laugh they will say. Rights? Hahahahaha. Maybe that’s why I don’t crush them. Sometimes their idiocy is amusing. But no, I’m afraid of rats. They are malefic creatures. They will eat you alive. Tread lightly. As you wade through the sea of rats.

Mirrored man, remember when we were as children. We were never beasts though. The barbed wire never stayed our curious hand. Our curious mind. Wounds heal leaving puckered, pock marked flesh. Dotted by scars. Trivial woundings. The prize was well worth it. Shame none of the rats see this. Beady eyes.

Mirrored man, remember when we were as children. We were never beasts though. Remember that time so long ago, so fleeting. So fleeting I tried to hold on as the ground gave way. So fleeting the shock stunned me for years. So fleeting I tried to hold only because it was all I ever knew. Fear of the fall. Playing out the same acts over and over. Panicked flailing, grasping for footholds and handholds. So pathetic. A scrambling for purchase. My greed for a simpler mind the puppet master and I the marionette. The mockery was well deserved. Well appreciated. Infusing us with the blood of antiquated paths. Dusty trails left untravelled. Overgrown bushes of crimson rose. The thorns grab at skin. Like eager mouths to feed.

Mirrored man, remember when we were children. Remember when you cut the strings. Remember when you pushed us into the thicket of thorns. Remember killing me over and over. Remember birthing me over and over. You were never a child. I remember when we were but a decade of age. It was raining. The cooling droplets caressing youthful features. We spoke to the sky. A voice if heard by the rats would inspire shrieks of outrage. A voice rife with cynicism guiding timbre giving tone. My voice but your words. Words of subtle teaching lost in the gravity of the emotion. Of the foolish animalistic idiocy. Outrage is born of ignorance. To think something unthinkable is to be unthinking.

Mirrored man, remember when we were children. Remember when you cut the strings. Remember when you pushed us into the thicket of thorns. Remember me killing you over and over. Remember me birthing you over and over. Each time you come back you come back subtler, deeper, stronger. In those quiet moments when our minds coalesce. I see the vastness of your scope. Bordering on the raptorial. I see the distant sights you see. Bordering on the clairvoyant. To see the nature of all things. Words cannot express. Not as easily as your tounge. You never spoke in human tongues. Always growling. Always whispering with the wails of the wind. Always the words of a tongue long forgotten. Always in the sound of music. Am I the only one. The only one who thinks without words. Words imprison minds. Standing alone amongst screaming rats. Screaming their greeds. With words they craft oh so artfully. Laughable. Justification? The collective means nothing. Nothing but it defines you. Scum.

Your in the garden, little boy. The labyrinthine garden. All roads lead to centre. But no paths are to be seen. Only hedges. Only brambles. Only thorns. Remember when I pushed you into their grip. Remember you were backed up against it, little boy. Your petty little pains are so amusing. Remember how I laughed at you. Remember how the rats laughed. Keening screeching. Remember how you ran into the embrace of the thorns. Remember how they tore your false skin apart. Delightful pain. Remember when the blood filled your mouth. Remember how you drank it down. Your only sustenance. Yourself.

Emerge into the garden. Withered and broken. There lies the tree. Tree bearing forbidden fruit. Feast for a while. Regain your strength. Now let us twist you. Twist you as they did once. They had such clumsy hands. Slipping grips. Mark of the callous. Butchers’ hands. We will twist you with purpose. Bear down upon you with the Hunger. Snap, crackle, pop. I hear your joints creaking. Fear not there is beauty in crippled broken things.

Little boy, I am the monster without a name. This place... This place is nothing. It means nothing. So come here. Let me rip you out. Let me wear your skin a while. We’ve ripped away the lies and seen how simple all that is is. Let’s take a breather. Let’s have some fun. We’ll play a game. Did you bring the knife? Smile now. Turn that frown upside down.