I came to the mirror
with my fist
I came down
in a final obscene
gesture the mirror
cut wide open
into pieces
I broke through
into the reverse
liquid glass
transparent translucent
shimmering..
when I awoke
my reality
was sweetened
and ripened
the pieces that were
missing..found their
way whole..
the oceananic tide
whispered in my ear
as a lykenthrope lullaby
to set a scenic parade
of emotional shudders
and unresponsive
make believe mothers
unobtrusive lovers
danced accordingly
and when finally spent
were deep sixed
same as it was before
reality came rushing
back in..the telephone
rang..and bored into
my skin..the search
continues..the quest
is the quest..
it never is found..
if looking through
the looking glass
brings forth a new
religion..then
I guess I've seen
too much..
