Mirror Poem by Graham Eccles

We hide our true nature behind our deeds and possesions

even unto our deaths.

Nature contained may as well be as worms in a wormery,

Visible sometimes, but buried in mud.



I shake my pen to make the ink flow,

I shake my head to make the bad dreams go.

Maybe i should shake myself.



I fill pages with pointlessness in order to awaken the things

i know lurk in the bowels of my imaginings.

I feel a groaning as claws scratch beneath,

as eyes look through mine and try to eat

your world with my mouth.



I hear through somebody elses ears, and sense odd things

that cannot be contained in words.

Though try as i might i cannot stop the flow of ink

that mirrors my bleeding soul.



Homesick, lost and stranded like a sailor on foreign shore.

I ache for the freedom lost.

I must taste the sea once more



Time passes so swift, it cannot be grasped by mortal hand.

No matter how big or rough the fingers.

Just handle it.