In reflections, there is no memory
No experiences
No past
In reflections, there is no future
No passion
No desire

A reflection is not always truthful
There are possibilities of distortions
But possibilities of accuracy

I love the moment but hate the present
I love the past but hate it’s echo
I love the future but hate the warnings

A million reflections will nevеr outrun a second of reality
As reflеctions cannot move
They are glimpses into the present

To me, the tube exists in a vacuum
Faces blend together, i begin to sweat
Fears take over as i theorise in this tomb
Ever screeching louder i must not fret
But i do
And i will
And i’ll stare into the window
Entering a tunnel i see myself and only myself
I am alone
Of course, there are beings in this carriage
But not in the reflection
My eyes fix to my eyes, my shoulders fall, my restless leg rests
And my hair is the same
Alone with strangers
Alone with friends
I cannot stop
My eyes glazed over like that donut i bought from the little bakery with the diagonal striped sign i should go there again when i return but i won’t (maybe)
I crave change but fear it’s wrath
Bloodbath imagery rings in my ear
From the 13+ spectre based story i read at 9 years young
If i remember correctly
First it was the tunnel
Second was the screeching
And third was the silence