WAKING RITUAL OF REPRESSING

bathroom mirror, morning reflection reminds
  me that after years spent thinking, the best
  thoughts I've had were ones wasted processing
  all the different ways I could use a
  pen to kill
  someone,
  literally.
rub some cold water on tingling sensation of
  deflation in shaking, half-polished fingers,
  watch as an empty image of me copies every
  move, see it bask in knowing how predictably
  petty my position on everything is; poises
  and preys on being pathetic, being
  empty and listless
  in regard to the world.
brush my teeth and watch as few fall so in
  love with life they can't help but meet paint-
  stained drain, don't blink as I watch myself
  wash it all away, expression unchanged as
  details grow slowly, bend gently with failure,
  demons in aching of broken bones and
  how many times was it I escaped from homes,
  delayed in growth, forever afraid there's
   nobody out there who
   knows me, who could ever
   feel at home
   with me?
turn away from mirror and hope that the image
  I wrote into existence can shy away for a while, go
   away to a place it can drown in denial, dictate
  a destruction designed solely for
  my own undoing.
 burn cigarettes out against flesh of
  skin, wield my pen and play out
  fantasies of talent in weaponry, watch
  as those around me learn
  their distant place
  at my side, let 
   the hours of shutting 
   off and out 
   define me. 


- Charlotte Griffiths

Published by Charlotte Griffiths