Cracked/ The Minds Jagged Edges
Is this the direction
my face
has taken;
the flight of
a murder of crows
webbing from the corner
of my eyes,
or is this looking glass
crass reflection
cracked
jagged edges
leading my mind
back there
behind
into the shadows
the webbed corners
and dimmed faded
wall papers
plastered over
screaming ghosts
of past
imaginations
that didn’t last
ruminations
that ran wailing
at the first sound
of booted feet
echoing up
from long buried depths
steps leaving
purple bruised prints
on my ground
and seasoning
of bitterness
over my foundation
of crumbling confidence
in a smooth mirrored
reality?