there is a mirror
on the fifth
floor of auntie's
apartment building
that she owns
i know
a whole big
fat concrete block of
her own that
smells always of
bat bits
prehistoric plumbing
shark soup.
the mirror is
cracked in half so
that one half of your
nose is lower
by two
or three
or maybe five
centimeters
but it doesn't matter
because it's just
enough
so that you
don't really look
like yourself
you look like
an alien;
i used to imagine
that when all
my brothers
and sisters
and cousins
are gone and i
am the only one
left on this
damnable
lonely little
dirt ball
i will look into
that mirror
and think
'i am the alien
that the humans
find from a planet
called heaven
in a galaxy
called hell'
// written sept. 19. 2023 //
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Poetrya collection of random pieces of poetry that i've written in 2023. (really, anything from love to surrealism.) huge thanks to anyone who reads this; most of the stuff in here probably makes absolutely no sense (even to me, lol). mostly inspired by t...
