Pixelated Forms

The clicks froze me back in time,
Stuck in a moment for eternity.
A spiteful look crosses me as I see me,
The glued smile, the bottomless black pool,
Scream from their pixelated cages.
They do not ask for their freedom
No, they are not so ambitious
Nevertheless they ask for some mobility
Some escape from such rigidity,
My devilish twin summons for a gasp of air.

I am gazing into my own death it seems,
A death of emotions
A death of expressions

No mourners, no,no shoulders to cry on
This death is a secret affair
Me and my twin are the sole witnesses, sole victims and sole convicts.

No, no tear is shred
But smiles do come
'How expressive' a voice proclaims
Irony bites hard into my skin
The pain bleeds, it bleeds red with a tinge of green.
The devilish one is exempted.

It is then I realize
I am the grim reaper 
I am the mourner
And I am the guilty.

Musing

I see my old photographs and stare blankly at the image in front of me. Of all the emotions that remain highly coiled inside my being, some lose up a little, just a sliver is what remains of me in those pictures. An out of context portion of me that I dare not call me.

Midnight Thoughts

I repeat words all too often, I repeat them to the extent that they come lose out of their meaning.
Semantic satiation it's called.
If only along with the words their physical manifestations could  also be numbed.
If only saying pain a dozen times
Could somehow make you immune to pain.

Legacy