Messed Identity

My identity mangled,
adopting different faces to different situations.
Not liking all these changing mirrors
of me.

My soul sinks,
into the abyss of desperation.
my thoughts reek,
of horrors, evilness and immoralness barely suppressed.

Like a pendulum I swing,
between hope and doom.
The respite given by the momentum
snatched away leaving no chance to savor

Two extremes of nature,
beautiful ying, seductive yang
remain unharmoniously unbalanced.
Coursing my blood with their never-ending duel.

And I, having to restrain my strength
on these precariously diminishing strands
of a broken bloodied gossamers web.
Made of diseased, grissly ripped old veins.

The cemetry calls my name with a vengence
longing to consume me eternally.
Making me into it's ethereal bride
ghostly, nauseating, decayed, skeletal

As my stagnant body rots,
my soul flows with the heat of emotions.
Excruciatingly exhuming numerous disturbing images,
sapping the essense of my purity in return.

But what a high price it is that I pay,
for this third eye embedded into my consciousness.
An entrance to the mystical spiritual plane,
interwined with and overlaying our physical world.

Where I see what others do not
in the manisfestation of tortured souls.
Faces frozen in time display not howls
but infinite acceptance.

Maniacal obsession despite compulsion
causes my eyes to rivet on them.
Half embroiled in a rythmn of reality and fantasy.
Alas, the dance ends, slouches into oblivion.

And I find myself still at that mirror
changing vividly before my eyes.
Feeling a sense of exhaustion and loss I cannot explain,
etching itself into my identity.

Sept 30, 2000