Monday, May 22, 2017

Let These Reflections Be Hidden From My Sight

The recognition of our own cruelty
that glance into a darker mirror than
we would ever willfully meet, our
eyes gone feral within faces we only
half recognize, that hint of a snarl
upon our lips as the low cunning of
the lizard brain seethes up into the
light, grasping and clawing for what we
want, what we think we deserve as
night falls and our friends are few

And with few friends, we fall, victim
of the night and all deserved claw-shaped
defense wounds, grasping for the light
and seething with the blood our brains
can hardly process, no longer cunning but
merely snarling dogs without the hint of
recognition, only faces within the feral
departure into the dark mirror or our own
cruelty, willfully disguised, transfigured
like those glancing into hell

For it is a hell we make alone, looking outward
the disguises we wear before our own estimation
cracked, the cruelty of our true selves reflected
the wild and unrecognizable, the beast with bared
canine teeth and more force than cunning, the
process of our descent like blood boiling from
lesions upon the brain, the light of us ebbing
wounds upon our flesh self-given with dull and
broken claws, the night our victim as we fall,
finally friendless, even in our own company

Patrick M. Tracy

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