my ugliness
is bubbling up
to the surface
again
barely restrained
by the poorly
formed skull
the flesh
distorted
as the image
shown
becomes something
more akin
to the one
reflected back
in the quiet moments
of dire depression

seven years
bad luck
for each mirror
shattered
in this
undisguised
self loathing
equals a lifetime
encompassed
by the truths
whispered
between lashes
yet i still want
to give my love
to you alone
even as i fear
who i really am

my soul
is broken drywall
showing a glimpse
into the tragedy
of an anthropomorphic
leonard cohen song
yet still
it tries
to reflect your light
like a dead satellite
pulled into
your life giving orbit
a monster lurking
in the closet
fearing that if
ever exposed
you’ll never look again

my ugliness
is bubbling up
to the surface
again