The Broken-down Imposter

This is not me

This is an imitation

Forged from a necessity to provide

In a world which fragments reality and personality

I grieve for precious time

Who I was is broken down

Unrecognisable, and consumed

Unless the imitation becomes a shield

And the world outside a monster

To be eaten by the broken-down imposter

Bringing me back to life

Synthetic

Overwhelming self-loathing

debilitates and smears

a synthetic human

into a state of nothing.

Avoiding confrontation

she harms herself,

realising she is not

worthy of the words her

alter ego spews.

She loves

fiction too deeply

because she is not in it.

 

 

Crossfire

Caught in the crossfire of someone else’s cruelty

She tiptoes up my spine, testing for weak points

“They hate you.” She whispers,

Devouring my faith with an angry smile

I thought I got over girls like her, decades ago

but it seems I’m infected, have not fully recovered

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll forget her, and myself.

 

 

 

Dead Space

Feeling overwhelmed, in this dead space.

Powerful and consuming. The small ‘d’ grows until

I’m hollow.

This Twenty First Century place, deflates me

Fluttering, numbing, until I’m needles, shaking to nothing.