Condensation of screams

 

I keep looking

in windows and

they keep looking

back into me,

like staring

into the void,

and seeing my face

glaring back at me.

 

The reflection,

the one that

mimics me,

almost perfectly,

I say almost,

for every

now and then

I catch them

just a second

out of sync.

 

I stagger, and trip

trying to catch them

in the act, but they

are so good

at the deception

that they also lay flat.

 

The bathroom mirror,

the spoon in the drawer,

the shimmer in the tv,

the face on my phone.

They all show someone

that looks like me.

Just a little... More.

 

They are not me,

I am sure,

or I would be

 

if I didn’t think

I was losing my mind,

 

or that my mind

wasn’t already lost

in worrying fields

of what lays in store.

 

I’ve seen them.

The way they jitter

just a little,

like insects

controlling

a body, the way

the limbs

are spindlier,

the way the back

arches

crookedly,

like insects,

parasites ticking

over until what,

they take my soul?

 

Good luck with that!

 

I see them staring at me,

then I realise

they were staring first,

and now I’m reflecting them,

is this a curse?

I’ve lost the will to find out,

I’m lost in this universe.

I’ve lost my

words.

For their tongue is moving

and I’m speaking in return.

 

I look and I see I speak and I see.

 

They speak and I speak

and I’m not sure if it is me or they

that is in control.

Now I’m flailing on the ground,

and they are looking down

upon me,

 

I’m trapped behind glass,

and the world

is smeared

by the

condensation

of my screams.

 

As my fists crash against

the empty mirror

staring back.