I was hoping
you would see something
in me other
than what I see:
decaying hands
and coffins lined,
morbid, maybe...
but this is my mirror.

There is a reflection,
however refracted,
and though I see it
that is no proof
that I am there....

So, somehow centered
but never measured
with any reality
or time or space.

Its easy to smell
the vanilla
I have laced
myself with
arsonic taste on
a skin so white...

02/10/2002

Posted on 02/10/2002
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