Trick Room
I stare at myself through a display case,
Defaming the shape and molds that I hold.
Capture my face through a lens,
Posting yet another layer that I’ll have to tear.
Scripting these dreams so they’re easy to speak, sequenced in panels for the risk of retreat.
I document my worth on compliancy,
So tell me, please?! What’s my score for the week?
I catalog life on things that don’t matter. Lying beneath the veneer of glassy chatter where my forgotten intentions lay splattered.
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