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Poem
I awoke in front of the mirror again. 
Unsure if I was still alive. 
All I could see was the past pouring out
in a prismatic scream from dilated
pupils. 
Colors bounced off the mirror and fed 
into the linen closet behind me where I 
kept my towels and dirty laundry in a hamper
on the floor of my procrastinating twirl.
This schedule is making me dizzy.
Waking up.  
Deciding to carry on. 
Arguing with myself; my sentiment.
Discerning if it’s real. 
If it’s really what I want. 
~
It’s been over a decade since I dropped myself onto
that plain. Since I fought with myself, amid 
Angels and Demons. Laughed at my infinitesimal impact
on the vastness of a reality that could very well
just be a dream, within another dream. 
I’ve tortured myself over the notions. 
Whether or not I had any obligation to fulfill.
Knowing full well it was the gravity that planted my
feet, on this spinning ball. 
So dizzy. 
~
I spoke to my ancestors in the wood grain of a hospital 
Door. The Devil in the ever-changing face of a stranger 
I met at a party. She was Him. She was everyone’s sickness. 
The worst parts of me. 
But I never spoke to God. 
No matter how much I cried out for him. 
I stood under a light bulb.
Stared straight into it, for hours. 
Swaying slightly, back and forth-
Like an egg at the bottom of a boiling pot.
Begging for Him to tell me that it was okay
to be alive. 
Silence. 
But, I did have a deep, and steadfast awareness.
A deep seeded notion that no matter how much
I wanted it. Felt like I had to. 
I shouldn’t kill myself. 
No matter how much I felt like I had to-
save myself, the world from the oncoming avalanche of torment. 
Maybe that is how He speaks. 
Maybe it was all a test. 
Maybe I just took too much God damn Acid. 
But, the colors still come- with the thoughts. 
I’m trapped in a kaleidoscopic nightmare that the 
Religious might call Spiritual Warfare. 
I just call it Guilt. Guilt and Uncertainty. 
Because I was too afraid. 
Or maybe I had just enough nerve- clarity. 
To not gouge out my own eyes
and pop the reward center of my brain
that I thought was the restart button. 
~
The mirror is cracked now. 
My fist is bloody. 
I’m screaming. 
But no one is coming. 
They’ve given up.
They’re afraid- So am I. 
The colors aren’t here. 
Just the reflection of the man who
was once a boy who threw himself into the wrong realm and still doesn’t know the way back. 
-James Kelley 2018
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