Frail illusions
.
So many words
Are said with intent.
So many lives
Are lived beneath
The shadow of
Cryptic meaning.
So many lies
Are disguised
As truth.
How many times
Have I lied and
Meant it,
Believed it,
Like I could speak it
Into existence? Yet
A lie is a type of debt;
The more we tell,
The more debt we
Incur to the truth.
And when the veil slips -
The heaviness of reality
Floats up from beneath
Cold, murky depths.
.
The glass shatters
And sprays in
Scattered shards
Sweeping through,
Like broken
Sunbeams peering
Through grey clouds
To illuminate the
Ground below.
.
And your words
Puddle on the
Surface and get all
Muddled up,
As you push
And push, desperately
Trying to make them
All go away.
.
But time is running out,
The light is starting
To shine through
The broken window,
And all that’s left
Lurking behind your walls,
Which you so
Agonisingly built, is
This dizzying loneliness,
That cripples you;
And the blood
Pours out of you,
Your thrashing attempts
To close the wound
Remain futile, and
They’re watching you now.
.
No more
Easy anonymity.
No more quiet lies
Left to hide behind.
They’re watching you.
I’m more me when I’m alone, anyway.
These eyes that gleam through
The cracks in my walls and see
Straight into my raw flesh,
Fill me with the deepest dread
I have ever known.
.
I’d rather be a drop
In an endless sea.
A dandelion in
Limitless fields.
An ant marching
Forward, one part
Of a collective.
Small, and
Inconspicuous.
I want to be
Obscure.
Found only by
Refracting light
At a certain angle.
I’d rather lurk in
Hidden corners
Than have light
Shine down
Onto the glass shards
That encircle me,
Pricking and poking,
And cutting into
My weary skin.
I can’t surrender to the fear of being seen,
Can’t let it wash over me, till I come out clean.
Can’t feel the feeling, and hide myself from righteous eyes,
Can’t gaze out the window, or drop my tired disguise —
It’s all just
A frail illusion,
And now it fades out -
To black.






What you call “them watching you” feels less like external eyes… and more like the moment you stop being able to avoid yourself. Great words.
Great words. A journey through the shadows that birth us. A nice respite from this burning, beautiful sun that is hell bent on making the UK sweat for its money.