Umbriate Press Poetry

Inside solitude lives itself
Over and over again
A tapestry of consciousness
Cannibalizing the air of its own reflection.

How to destroy the senses and sense the destruction?
More useful still to coax the ground to swallow
Instead of laboring over the violence the shovel commits.

From where rises in the conflict of self
A pulsing voice irreconcilable and shrewd? 
Its lisping chant so often spoken 
It has assumed the form of the ear into which it riddles: 
“The mirror is not your friend.
Stop looking at yourself, look instead for whom you are not.”