Flattering it's not kind accurate picture.
by James McLain
Bias is sought.
What ever you see or see naught.
I swallow it all immediately, just as it is,
untarnished love or hate, depending on what I see.
I am not cruel-only it is not true.
The reflection is in God's eyes, his little bitch.
Oh, on the wall,
on the other side of the wall, open all the time.
It shows my first ink spot and ink it is.
It's long, it's wrong, it lookes like cuts in me.
However short I see it will blink,
shrinking back it will blink all the time.
In the dark I pull away, I pull away then late at night.
When I was at the Lake.
The women I met just out of reach of her hard lips.
Caught on my back looking up at moon lit clouds.
She turned her back, it's shame full what I feel.
Hands shaking at the sight of tears, without reward.
Out of fear whats important to her, I was there.
She will never leave and I will never go.
When ever I come at night all by my self.
Replacing the darkness of her face I fall asleep.
Black and blue my eyes see all I feel at night.
Young and and both woman rising up in me,
in me she has merdged with the girl in the mirror.
The day I came, the day I left is the day she went away.