I do not understand how it happened or why but one moment I was
dismally overwhelmed on the throne by a bout of irritable bowels
ordinarily, talk of such matters is speech nobody wants to hear
nobody wants to know or cares to imagine what happens on the loo
obviously, this is a private matter, no? We keep it to ourselves
transparency in speech, of the utmost concern, in our daily affairs
under these conditions, I suffered in silence, for years, nay, for decades
needlessly harboring resentment for my pains in the lavatory
difficulties make men strong in their characters, to whine is not manly
exceptions to the rule exist to disregard arbitrary customs
remarkably, to speak to my family of pain was a cause for laughter
sinister, to be born under the influence of a whiskey bottle
tragic how traumatic experience creates for the rest of our lives
asinine perspectives without context to guide adults out of childhood
nostalgia for our youth, for good times, memories overcome by hardship
discipline makes a man hard and long-suffering with his guts tied in knots
hungry to get away, to run far, far away, I stared at the mirror
otherwise than being sick of this world, I saw my reflection, the same
weirdly but not the same, reversed in appearance, a phantom of photons
ignorance of the law excuses no one, light is particles and waves
transformed by physicists in observation rooms watching experiments
humiliation shakes a child deeply, their guts turn inside out, the core
appendix near bursting, inflamed from a blockage, get over it, my boy
personally, I know the alley where Jack feeds on the birds of night, stare
pensively, the mirror reflects like a stone wall polished inside a cave
exactly, when I thought nothing would come of this futile attempt to flee
naturally, the valve releases the pressure, I fell through the mirror
exactly as the self-same other fell as well to my reality
differences adjusted, he was light as photons, I was dense, flesh and blood
observing the photons became bewildering, everything was the same
resemblance but light moves faster than eyes can see, the mirror helped me watch
wondering how my self-same reflection had fared, I watched him turn ghostly
humans were never meant to enter other worlds serendipitously
yesterday, life was hell accepting my childhood as one without much hope
bemused by this moment, my situation changed, I was like a mountain
undergoing slow shifts in the templates below, but myself, motionless
transformed into stillness, I became the mirror reflecting mercury
otherwise than being empty of images, I lost all sense of self
nations rise and fall but mirrors remain vitrine, a reverse display case
eventually, I saw my phantom as a ghost, translucent yet unseen
missing but not noticed, no one knew I left, caught up in contemplation
objectified symbol of quotidian flux, locked in longevity
moment after moment, I wait for the phantom to become glass again
ecstatic to return to be with the living, to breathe, feel pain again
noticeably, photons are not phantoms or ghosts but particles or waves
time disappears, I wait in a realm of limbo, neither heaven nor hell
I do not understand how it happened or why but the next moment, poof
wonders never cease, light pressed back all my desire to return to our world
ancient, illusory magical properties opened the gates of hell
sandwiched between living and waiting to live, no one noticed I was gone
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