Where the doors don't open
And the windows, they look in upon themselves
And my gums bleed ceaselessly, but only at night
And the sink is chipped from falling teeth
And the mirror is purple bruises and scared smiles
But I'm not standing there.
All the lights are talking to each other
As the stairs multiply until I can't see the bottom.
Down, I look, and the carpet is a wasteland
But it feels safer where everything begins.
Back inside the mirror my eyes are whispering secrets
I only begin to recall.
Reds and pale pinks, of sunset hours past.
Oh, yes... today...
It drew on like glass flows
Or prison life
Until even the clocks grew weary.
As a hundred million dictionaries forget the meaning of patience,
I awaken, under a canopy of cherry blossoms
And dead stars.
Sleepwalker, I. And wakewalker, I the fool.
I shuffle back to the mirror once more.
...looking for signs of change.