Mirrored Psychosis

Mirrored faces reflect faces mirrored.
The mirror can break,
appear as impassible spindles of web,
and sometimes it can shatter
my only doorway to my utopian psychosis.  

The voice that emerged I didn’t recognize
it was holding conversations outside of me
to a being, I didn’t know.
I felt the pressure on my soul –
a weighty feeling causing me turmoil.

Fingerprints on the glass
tell of past attempts to cross.
Opaque with its tropical steam,
no, it’s my breath on the glass,
yearning to cross.

It seemed my body was hijacked
by the otherworldly –
my feelings would try to come forth
but they were tender feelings of honesty
and couldn’t get past the dark feelings.

I stare back into chipped eyes.
One by one they fall; I’m losing time!
It may cut me to cross, lacerations
would be on my body, not my soul.
My heart’s a fist trying to punch through!

And my voice a ram, plunging
through the tall fence that is my teeth!
I won’t be silent anymore!
I will not restrain my swelling soul!
I shall step through this mirror!

I had nowhere to turn!
those that would believe could be in danger
sinister stirring held me, hostage,
soon I had no name just a number
a prisoner of understanding.

The psychosis railed inside my mind –
distraught with vision!
I investigated the abyss, and it looked back
at me until I fell into its depths
and a spirit of cunning entered me.

A blast of lilac heat, and wind
that wraps itself around me.
“Welcome home,” I hear.
Lacerated hands now healed;
eyes adjust to the new light.

In such a dark place all my life
now with new consciousness,
I can barely keep my eyelids ajar.
The shores that are my eyelids
wane to a tear-sea that reigns.