Sick

My eyes soften their glow as I lean into the mirror,
Just a closer look, a closer look at my failing vanity.
I frown at the speckle of imperfection, the hole of my being,
But it’s my eyes that deceive me now,
They are lost, lost in some dream-found, death-storm incredulity,
I can’t look any closer, any longer, but my dream- bound eyes
Hypnotized by something beyond the mirror lure me back in,.
I lean in, lean in, lean in and fall in, down the rabbit hole persay.
A looking glass, “I am Alice,” I say,
But something inside me answers back.
No, “I am just finished, finished and mad, no hat for me”
I scoop up my tea and return to reality, where ever, where ever it may be…
“Manic Depressive,” I repeat, “Manic depressive, just part of the cycle I see.”
I walk away, blankness on my face,
My eyes, a medicated glimmer.