Venting

I do not recognise my own face. I have stared at this mirror too long. Features blurred beyond understanding: My eyes, nose and mouth seem to be wrong. Eyes filled with uncertainty; glazed with world-weary despair; no longer conscious of suffering; unwilling and unable to care. Nose wrinkled in self-disgust; helpless against the world’s stink; ignorant of all the sweet smells; oh whatever would my Grandma think. Mouth no longer expressive; sneering even to my Mum; filled with universal distaste; twisted by logic which has gone numb. Mind battle of good and evil; just playing out in my head; withdrawing from reality; wishing for religion to be dead. My intention is not to ridicule, For platitudes so easily sent. Empty ideology and rhetoric Means I feel compelled to vent.