Tuesday, November 13, 2012


It is there when I sleep
Taunting me with moments of bliss
Past lives of union
Squandered extacy
When I wake it is there
A face I cannot bare to see
A face I would give the world to touch
Give the wold to hold
It's is in the mirror
Full of judgments
All unfair, but just
All irrational, yet grounded in truth
Or perhapse ground in doubt
Self Made and distributed to the temple of the mind
But it is there and it will not leave
And I fear I will carry it to the end of my days.

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