Some say our lives are what gets reflected
in our mirrors. How unsatisfying.
What small dreams. I can’t taste another’s blood
in dreams. I wake up without the scarring
I earned on the other side of that glass.
There is something sick about that, children
playing as gods. I can decode teargas,
know the best use of fennel and cumin.
Have held a meteorite in one hand.
If you must look in a mirror for hell
you have never seen hell. Nightmares must live
to be understood properly. Dreamland
erupts at your feet. You ride the groundswell
out of the dark, into light, into love.