Yes, I’m reblogging myself… I’m that arrogant.
by Mr. Wolf
who are you?
He raises his gaze. The alien in the glass stares.
The question echoes across the vacuum between his ears, a riddle bouncing around void space. Is anyone out there to hear it?
Eyes trace the outline of a tired face, searching, hoping. As if the ugly mug in the mirror might know better.
A trembling hand reaches out to touch the image, the false idol.
Or am I the false one? The shadow of a reflection?
He dreads to contemplate the answer.
Cold glass meets hard fingertips.
Worlds existing in parallel, never intended to meet.
living in ink-covered pages.
belonging to stolen words.
breathing in the spaces in between.
who are you, really?