Khimaira & The Mirror


I struggle for consciousness,
for anything,
tangible to hold–
I slip
and the whole
of the sopping slope
falls down with me,
ungraspable slime,
the sludge of
half-attempts at
dichotomous chimeras;
experiments in the fusion
of human emotion
and reality–
only water and
dirt remain.
Perhaps, fission is to blame:
the split in the
human brain,
so while I gasp,
I drown in rain.

The Mirror

When will we know the meaning of it?

This paradoxical buoyancy,

At once we are sunk in

The depths

And suddenly gasping on top–and

The mirror we face

Is our ceiling,

But it reveals the sky.


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