By Israh
white sunlight, empty bathroom
I look into her deprived eyes
dune like canvas, splashed with water
drowning my sense of self,
down the sink
no amount of makeup or staring into the mirror
can be used to ‘fix’ her
trying to look perfect,
like all the internet starlets
a winless war, a marathon
leaving you questioning
what are you even worth?
chitter-chatter in the distance
plastic smiles, plastic people
I don’t think I relate to anyone
constantly dying for something real
fiona apple on the queue, forget him pill
I’m growing tired of being an ingenue
“you’re only 18, don’t need to worry”
“you’re losing time, pain is temporary”
alone in the elevator
my floor’s too far, losing patience
I don’t wanna be here
I don’t think I like her,
…the girl in the mirror
“who’s the guy? you’ve dressed so nice”
it’s not my job to turn men on
another comment on my stick-like waistline
from some older man, a tormentor
another one on the length of my blouse
way too provocative?
being reduced to just my body
not allowed to be angry
only an ornament or a mad woman
or a love machine or a plastic cup
that you fill with your plastic love
I think I’m losing her
…the girl in the mirror
pouring kerosene on telephones
losing sleep like the kilos
or the light from the scrolls
so blue, like the state I’m in
dreamt of red streams dripping from my wrists
hurt like being thrown into red mortar bricks
words all engraved on the bedroom ceiling
in bold and black, saying
‘you’re no good, you’re no good’
and the ghost underneath my bed
my only real friend
whispered underneath its breath
darling, they don’t understand
I stared at the ceiling, so red
if only my depression was a bone fracture
I said.
crying in some party bathroom
black glitter, tissue paper
flickering heartbeat from all the pressure
I don’t recognise her
…the girl in the mirror
time slows down in the metro
hopeless, hopeful, dreadful eyes
who is the reflection in the window?
from Sion to Seawoods, I lose my mind
did I forget the wide eyed
8 year old precocious child
they’re trying to condition my mind
asylum like,
being institutionalised
getting lost in the tunnels of who won
and who lost, in the race of acquiring
badges of honour that don’t matter
I know I never belonged
now I’m drinking my own venom
spitting out poison
into the wine red journal
like a thorn bird to bleed glitter
when will it end?
when I stop listening to the demons
vanishing into twilight
into the lakes, secret places to hide
but sometime around midnight
I saw an incandescent glow, rare to find
fiery eyes, solar mind, she’s got the guts
only have to shut the door behind
It’s the season of dread,
but I can take the road less travelled and own it
it’s the season of dread
and though I haven’t fully found her yet,
I know who the girl in the mirror is.