Staring Into The Mirror

At times, I sit
in my room and stare
aimlessly into the mirror.
mind racing, but still
nothing of real worth being
brought forward. I stare
and stare until I
hypnotize myself, mentality
lost in those shapes that
are my nose, lips, pores,
eyes, hair. nothing more
than nameless figures
staring back and drawing
me into abyss. deep and
flesh-coloured, this abyss
strangles me, sucks me
of all remaining like until
I am merely a nothing.
a lowly creature unrecognizable
as the person, once so
strange before. a shadow
of the former inhabitant of
this shell. not hollow but
swirling with something dark
and reposed, sunken away
from a world where airbrushed
mannequins are the new reality.
this lowly creature the
personification of all the
lies spoon fed into my
tightening throat until I choke
on the regurgitated remains
of my former self.
I choke and wish for
death in a world
built upon fantasies.
a simple release
from the otherwise
ongoing tribulations
the body has known.
no pain, no words
can describe the
place without harm.
not asleep, not a death
more like a prolonged
coma in which you are
aware of existence but
cannot fully comprehend
yourself. and my eyes, dry,
with relentless studying,
blink me back into my room
staring into the mirror.