i suffer from a gaze piercing through the mirror into the
imperfections of my skin and the uneven proportions of my body
i am drawn to my own reflection like metal to a magnet
and then drown in sorrow as i become it
i look down at my shadow and see through plato's cave
how the world frowns at me
the nightgown sticks to my belly
as i lay on the lawn, the insects feast on my flesh
until sundown, when they all gather round the flayed fox
hung from my decaying ribcage
dawn brings visions of unachievable perfection cast
by the spraying mist over a field of golden oak leaves
and a big black bulging pile of silken black hair
the silver cyclops looks over his shoulder and his veiny eye
petrifies the final piece of my soul as it's whittling down into
sulfur, causing it to roll down six hundred and sixteen flights
of stairs, shattering into a countable number of shards never to be
swept up from the crimson velvet rug