She often leaves her glasses off for an hour each morning to experience the blur—the communion of the leaves on trees into living masses, the gradience of the colors inside her refrigerator, the weighty facelessness of the people whom she encounters as she drinks her coffee and wraps the scarf more tightly around her neck in defense against the city autumn. When she replaces the frames on the bridge of her nose, only because she must—
everything sharpens.
no questions linger in the
air. she sighs, begins.
Categories:
facelessness, beautiful, creation, growing up,
Form: Haibun
Sorry does not drool from jilted lips
Nor, does sin seep, through sagging seams
Thus, Poison held in vile vials
Culminate disturbing dreams
Are transgressions fate and folly
from a cup that all must sip
And suffer from some turn and trial
Just to get forgiveness
Or are we prone, from wish or wisdom
Hoping we be un-bequiled
From the quill that penned the potion
Deluding hate, with strong denial
What is strength and what is weakness
Facing facelessness with smile ?
"til the soul's consumed by fire
Forgiveness sure must take a while
My transgressions, posted stealthy
on the sleeve, I wear at night
Looks to me as pure white linen
But, kept discreetly out of sight
I bruise your wing, you break my bow
It's been this way, since forever
I do forgive thee this I know
Though you-me, not and never.
Categories:
facelessness, lost love,
Form: I do not know?
This is not life
Façade-glossed eyes
Spilling out
Keeling from inside
This is not
What I traded for a pay check
A calendar space
Insentience
This is not dilated pupils
Suggestive smirks on long open nights
Sidewalk flocks through the blinking city sights
This is antithesis
A nihilistic spectacle
Handfuls of myself
Slung at some meaningless backdrop
Of tedious, grievous facelessness
I am dead weight
Basking in a womb of ruin
DIY
Self-inflicted holocaust,
Ashen, laughing
Swearing that I’ll rise
This is not life
Lying awake
Vexing over lost, losing, perpetual time
Abiotic, unborn
Pressing through groupthink, Stacholm syndrome,
Wondering when I died
Categories:
facelessness, depression, introspection, philosophy,
Form: Free verse
Just tell me how I got this far
Just tell me why you're here and who you are
-Michelle Branch, Everywhere
Beset by all kinds of thoughts or so while I try
To picture you. Thus, something not sacramental
Instead, a ritual: eyes closed, (for good measure)
So as to assemble you and you alone
Who comes out of my mind's shadow barely a minute old:
Far and whose form a blur
Weightless like air next to the noonday sun
(Or perchance a bit of both) Of which I'm certain.
What if I fall asleep
Atop your facelessness forever and of such is not enough?Worse,
If there exists, I might dream
Nothing,
No thing.
Author's Inspiration:
Everywhere
Sung by Michelle Branch
Categories:
facelessness, introspectionme,
Form: Free verse