MIRRORS.

BY ANNA BLOCK.

02

self-portraits mingled with self-landscapes

and vice versa

 

Mirrors

 

metastasising snowstorm, cutting wind

through which they shoved their way

cramping claws

with no goal but knowing address as the best laws

 

wet blackness beyond sweating windows

tea with no sugar, beds with no pillows

thick covers of fluffed darkness

rose tender razor sharpness

 

knock on the door the bell is off

I am on my knees your loyal dwarf

look at me I will reflect

your vulture gaze, your sticky fears

to you I plead:

dig in your stomach the well for my tears

 

give me a list of rules

which I will break from the end

let out all of your wolves

who will get me to the land

of no sins and no times

no goals and no frames

no means and no lies

no faults and no blames

 

they said they would never stop

licking off my gaping wounds

they said they would never stop

insane games in my mirror woods

but they did. they all left. and so did I.

we parted one day without saying good-bye

 

but the room is still in its place

my beloved cage for victims gaze.

 

http://annablock.ru/

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