Mind's Eye

In my mind’s eye, I am beautiful.

Do you see me?

Dark bags, crags, wrinkles,

Erased by my vanity and ego.

I see scars, twisted into triumphs as my

Self-image conceals consequences.

Do you see them?

Photographs fail me. Digital doppelgangers

Glare back with swamp-hollow peepers and

A tiredness I cannot remember.

When was that? Was I on something? What happened?

I lie easier when the shadows creep and swell

When my fears and tears are airbrushed in the dark.

If beauty is deeper than skin, deeper than the sins of temptation that trigger,

Our hero worship, then why can’t I feel worthy, can’t I feel whole?

If that hole that bubbles in my gut is nothing more than doubt, more than the tantalizing

Rhythm of loathing and rage, more than the prick of envy

That speeds shivers along my rubber spine,

Then why, today, under the wrinkles and worry lines,

Do I still see that boy, the one who will never grow up, the one whose cheeks are flushed

And free of adult mistakes and guilty words?

Shadows are the self-spawned center of an impostor.

Does he see me?

I quiver in public. My words sound powerful in my head, but seep out of

Half opened lips like a hesitant spillway.

Dammed back, Damn, I know they’re there. The words that make me, something,

Unique? A next generation thinker. A great mind, they will say. If I say…

Something.

Then why, when my beauty fills the hallowed halls just below the skin suit I was born into, stretched out, and abused,

Why can I not speak my truth to a world that pretends to value honesty?

Honest what?

Honest-Me?

In a world flayed by plastic influencers and likes,

The siren’s call of viral media demands conformity

Or threatens something far worse:

Irrelevance.

Why does my beastly ego shine with such vigor, such vitality, such…vanity?

Does it see me?

Who am I, if not my sense of self? You tell me….

Please.

I don’t know anymore.