I see you, me.

one mirror is a chair in my mind
death is something to sit on
like hunger or sadness
or shades of red or meaningless monopolies
blank faces on broadway at 2 am
hunching their soldier shoulders
so you can't see how beautiful their anguish is
or the light cascading from your windows
when you realize you're all alone
and somebody taught us all to hate ourselves
like echoes shadowed by thunder
like thousands of isolated islands far away enough
that even your heart hesitates
geographic recluses
alone for their own uses
a mirror is a chair in my mind
like shooting stars that need wishes themselves
like dusty glasses on a play ground
or sounds the world never found