Something aimless,
irrationally
casual
in the cold
reflection--
someone,
something
I may have shied from
before
becoming.
Gold on
blue
into deeper
gold again--
the shadows
converge
in violet eyes
I used to think
familar;
and red slicks
into
white-black
on hands
that should have
trembled
at its touch.
Holding on
to memories of
life becoming
emptiness,
emptiness
cursing life
I move on:
forgetting
the memory of
feeling
I try to become
myself,
I seek to be
something
stronger.
There can be
only one.
Hiding
into a tangle of
spring,
somehow colored,
somehow holding
the dusty death
of my precious
winter--
I cannot escape,
I don't want
to escape
the stalking laughter
I left behind.
Blue
on white
into deeper
blue I loved--
nightshade
tinging the reflection
I long
to fear facing again,
blurring
terror into
nostalgia.
Remembering
the curse
upon life that
brought emptiness,
missing,
regreting
that life that
brought emptiness
I step back:
clutching
the memory of
pain
I try to become
him,
I long to
outrun
his shadow.
There can be
only one.
Chimerical,
the creature
I patch together
from recollection--
the one you
knew,
the one you
hated;
feared
knowing.
White into
black
waxing brittle
cold white once more--
the smile
is frost
against mirrorglass
silver
I scorn;
the face is
familiar
as another's,
as the day
when I stared
at his funeral-
shroud picture.
Shunning
the image
of life that I cursed,
becoming
the life
that I ended
with curses
I turn:
denying
his face
that stares back
in the mirror
I laugh,
I drown out
his blood
with the screaming
of thousands.
There can be
only one.
Imagining
the limitless
restrictions
of dreams--
somehow,
somewhere
lies the answer I seek,
lost in the shift
of deep
fury
and power.
Black into
indigo purple
shadowed black--
blue becomes only
the color
of memory;
crimson the
cherished recollection
of his death
that I fled
from.
Letting go
of the brother
my hate killed,
the brother
my hate
brings to life
in the mirror
I laugh:
remembering
the taste
of old terror
I break it,
I shatter the glass
so I once
again kill him.
There can be
only one.
Desiring
the sensation
of life
outside emptiness,
needing
to live
in a life without
emptiness
I change:
killing
the shadow
of kindness
I seek myself,
I become the
cold killer
to be different
than he was.
I will be
only
one.
~(c)3-4-01 The Mad Poet (A.K. LaBelle)