the reality of my face is a distant murmur.

lips have turned into dots, eyes are small circles. there is a slit

on the center of my upper lip.

this strange form, the clump of mass

standing before a mirror, talking to an illuminated

silouette. nothing is recognizable, cheeks, lips, hair, the

distorted expression of sadness and shock, weary and alien. the dark, ever present black circles glow in the yellow light of the bathroom.

trapped between retreat and movement. open and out, crawling through the small cave within me left from another chamber...into the water, a cool pool awaits, perhaps.

bells jingle and i am tumbled back into the skin. strange, not my own. none of these molecule collections are mine, stored out of human habit and expectation.

the eyebrows continue to furrow, only digging the forehead line a little deeper, adding more angry character to this jew. the monster continues to find ways to escape, to make any sweet moment shrink from joy. it sucks on smiles and beauty. it rapes understanding, violently thrusting its hungry mouth into wakefulness. no, hiding from its fury and strength only calls its name, a multitude of sounds. it hears when all is silent, when hands are tightly holding my neck, bringing me to life. death brings me closer to the breath of these pink lungs, struggling to catch the whispers roaming though these ears.

once more, for we are clouded.