Only You Know the Sound of Your Voice Through the Bones of Your Skull; Tell Me What it Sounds Like
The truth staring us in the face
Is always our own reflection–
Seeing ourselves backwards
Providing just enough distance
For us to acknowledge the truth
Without being threatened by it–
Is that who we are?
Yes and no
But the internet has reversed the frame
So that the reflection looks like an uncanny portrait
Bringing the mirror image into the real
As if this is exactly who we are
In an insisting existence we find intolerable
