In The Mirror.

The sound of scratching,
The clicking of teeth,
There is something here.

The air is foul, the stink of hate,
There is no ground, an endless pit,
There is nothing here.

The dark is blinding,
The silence too loud,
What creatures reside within?

Out there,
A face looking in, never seeing.
Flawless and innocent,
That is what it wants to see.

Flashing a smile, it disappears,
Carrying it's lies and deceit,
Adding poison to the filth.

No one sees.
No one knows.
No one suspects.

But I do,
I am always there to witness the fall, the change.
I move as you do, talk as you do, look exactly like you.

You know what I am,
You see me in the darkest places,
Always in a place most familiar to you.

I am the creature within,
Do you understand now?

"Man prefers to believe what he prefers to be true" - Francis Bacon.
Art by Johannes Rantapuska

Something I wrote a while back during my seniors' thesis presentation.

Time.

It's only been a little more than a month,
It's ONLY been a little more than a month.
How is it that time is both fast and slow?
A blink of an eye,
An endless eternity,
Same amount of time.
Time is defined by the seconds and hours and minutes,
But it fluctuates with perception.
I want more time,
I wish time would pass faster.
We want both,
But time only moves in one direction at the same speed.
It never slows down,
Never speeds up.
Knowing this,
We still continue to wish for what we can't have.
Stubborn, selfish, hopeless,
Such is the endless greed of men.