easy as breathing.

HONESTLY, DISHONESTY ESCAPES ME
as a defense, of sorts,
of course
that doesn’t imply purity
of intention
with every discourse
i forget to mention
of course
that doesn’t excuse
the reasons i give
when my reason to live
fails to keep me
on dry land
as a matter of course
and did i mention
my lack of a stance
when i stand at the window
watching
as my reflection dissents
and scatters
at the sound of my voice
scratching at the backs of my eyes
i scratch until i bleed
i bleed until i realize
this isn’t my face
anymore that i’m seeing
there isn’t a place
in this world
i’ve yet seen
on the other side
of my own reflection