I walk into the mirror box again and it’s as if my life
really is just an extension of my own metaphors.
I’m caught in the mirror maze, searching for something
in the mirrors at angles, but all I can see is myself,
my sad, stupid self, stretching on and on forever
with the same boring face, the same boring feelings,
again and again until I stop being able to make out the details.
Am I looking back at myself or am I looking forwards to the future?
Will it always be the same or has it merely been
the same since forever? I stare into the mirror tunnel
at all these selves repeating themselves,
forcing the years, the weeks, the days into the same strict patterns,
merely following the self that came before them, merely mirroring
the feelings, only doing it worse and worse with each new rendition.
It’s just me, I think, in the mirror box, caught up in myself
because I am selfish and horrible. I’m selfish and horrible
and I want to turn my back on myself but
how can I possibly do that in the mirror box?
I meet myself over and over, and it’s just me,
in all this vast, repetitive vagueness, just me in
this long stretch of lonely unsettledness that surely doesn’t end.
I want to smash my own face in, so I close my eyes
and try to think, maybe, maybe, maybe, because I don’t
want to be this grey-cloud self forever. I can’t be, and so maybe,
just maybe, somewhere beyond all these selves
there’ll be a day when I’m down on the shore
and the sea will be calm and the sky will be
faded purple. Love will not sink down into nothingness
because in the cool evening air,  my heart will be full
instead of gaping and my mind will be at ease
instead dwelling on it’s own boringness
or entangling itself in own self-created sadness.
And maybe, I’ll have abandoned my book
and its pages will be dry because I won’t have been crying into it.
They’ll be no mirrors, just the ocean,
glinting like an amethyst cluster in the half light
and I’ll rest my head on the shoulder of the girlfriend
I'll meet someday and I’ll smile in this beautiful liminal moment
and nothing will be tainted by the dread of returning home.
We’ll kiss – on the shore – and rewrite it forever and
maybe the stars will fall out of the sky when I shake it and
all my trains will run on time and all the wounds
in the world will heal simultaneously.
It’s a moment surely stolen from someone else’s poetry,
but I’ve got to cling to something to avoid becoming
lost entirely in all this dark, intangible vagueness.
There’s got to be at least one imaginary moment
that isn’t just me, reflected over and over.
There’s got to be one moment that doesn’t stare
back at me from inside the mirror box.

I. nope.



II.
long-windedness verbosity
diffuseness prolixity
wordiness rambli­ng
circuity discursiveness
redundancy tautology
tediousness verbi­age
verboseness length
longevity permanence
garrulity windiness
v­olubility circumlocution
expansiveness babbling
periphrasis gushi­ng
blathering protractedness
waffling lengthiness
iteration repet­ition
prating prattling
jabbering digressiveness
dreariness tediu­m
deadliness wandering
repetitiousness repetitiveness
pleonasm co­nvolution
logorrhoea boringness
maundering superfluity
duplicatio­n tiresomeness
monotony reiteration
gabbiness informality
mouthin­ess diffusion
logorrhea wordage
blah-blah dryness
dullness boredo­m
sameness loquaciousness
talkativeness loquacity
freeness orotun­dity
roundaboutness breadth
gobbledegook gassiness
wittering mult­iloquence
perissology big mouth
gift of the gab garrulousness
staleness tallness

driving on empty, my tank way past e
i fear the sudden stop of my car on the busy street,
Its the academy awards,
I feel so unexciting
I gymed it up, worked out hard
I am eating better and taking care of myself
subway in my tummy
clean and showered comfy in pajamas
i wonder when I will meet that guy
who will like me for me,
just as i am
and loves my boringness
wonders what i am thinking
and loves to play the question game, in an attempt to get to know the real me.
You ask, Ill tell.
where is he?

Women kissing each other
on cheeks the friends
meeting for coffee kind

not the passionate
let’s get to bed
and kiss

and indulge kind
but Henry wishes
the women at the coffee bar

were of that kind
just to break the boringness
of the day

just so he can get through
the hour without
the boring chitchat

of others around
on who was doing
what to whom

and who has just had
their kids in the right
kind of school

or whose husband
has made the grade
for body climbing

back stabbing promotion
oh if only
Henry thinks

that the dames
could embrace
and undress

and get down
to the woman to woman thing
right here

in the coffee bar
and he’d promise
he’d not spill a drop

of his latte
or faint
or look away.

the mundane tasks set from day to day have been put in a never changing rhythm

the boringness and nothingness has overtaken everything

the depressing stupor that this life has set into has left me drifting through the motions

as the base, the umbilical
cordon of passion, unitying
two people

the wormth conextion, of honney
and fire, but alone, in flames.

as funeral pire, no rest, no eyes
that as a balsam, help to mitigate
the pain, that burns as loneliness

of the one who
loves in the distance, and see
in strangers eyesthye eyes of
the one not specting him, but loves
him still.

lost, incomplete, vain,
unplugged, hopeless waking
between men,

as body without soul,
as man with no heart, its in the hands
of the one, stabing his back.
is in mondegos hands,that luckily
was not needed,  the dark ****

my eyes lost in apparent boringness,
nigth carries my steps, of plane
incompleteness.

assorted on mi mind,
the tantric desire, lays subsole,
as abandonned mine, in the shadow
of it.

the vain desire, scapes between
stertores, of an eternnal flame,
that never stops burning, only her
palorosa balsam, calms the
incomplete fire, tacit, vain, unconnected


while subsole, front of the seas,
they both dream, with the son
of venus, but will never
have me

in a decadent, eternal party,
where they only suffer,
for the love that cannot have


david montecinos.

Little by little
Shadow engulfs the weary soldier
As the dark drapes hide the light
The senses onced sharp
Dulled
The focus once once intense
Weakened
The confidence once large
Minisculed

As the head nods unconsciously
in succeeding rhythmic locomotion
Dozes the student
From the horrendous boringness
As the teacher shuts
the dusty only-once usage textbook closed
Marks the end of the informative torture
Awakens the knowledge searcher
From his unexpected quick slumber

Thus came night
For the student to do the task obtained
Little did he know
Not a single knowledge was gained

Let me come home
Help finish the chores
Send you to bed
So you can put on that bathrobe you like
And you can clear your head
While I finish up the work
As you get relaxed
I hope you smile with the smell of candle wax
Because this is my favorite part
Even if you don't feel good
I'll slip that bathrobe off and be as gentle as possible
Until you fall asleep
You're only feeling twenty percent but I need to give you my one hundred and twenty
Nothing would make me feel more confident
Knowing I pleased you
You're in a world of Boys and all I want to be is your Man
Sure, I always have a plan
But it would usually mean
Coming home to you and thinking of how good I can give it to you this time
I'm not a magician but I'd sure love to keep the magic going
Not the boringness the ones before gave you
But multiple sheets needing to be cleaned per week
And a quicker pile up of undergarments in the hamper
Your insecurities will try to damper
But let me show you
How my Eve should feel
When I'm in her sheets

Im sorry for my boringness & lack of imagination over the years, my sense of dreaming has gone away when he made me realize there's nothing left to hope for. My sense of belonging has diminished into nothing. I guess i was never really worth it to stay. I wanted to just run away with you when times got hard, maybe you weren't running with me, you were running from me. I understand. I wish i could run from me too. My subconscious shadow is always watching me. I'm trapped in this dark world, alone. Waiting to be set free, days are getting longer, breathing is getting harder. My feel of vanishing is getting stronger. It's not that i want to die, but if i were today, i wouldn't mind.

We were all just lost souls trying to see where we fit.
We were looking for a place to settle down,
A place to call home.

We pretended to love one another,
Rallied together against the boringness of the same old town.
With each passing day we had less to talk about.
We resented each other more the longer we were together.
We created drama out of nothing just to ease our psyches.

Half of them got drunk every weekend just to have a story on Monday,
Made **** jokes and then said **** culture doesn't exist.
A few started doing ****** in the woods;
It was cheap, it was easy,  it numbed the chronic loneliness.

I told my best friend that in six months I would never see him again.
He agreed.

We all said we'd get out when we got the chance.
Only a few of us did.

Cold Blooded! I'm barely being texted
With Oks and your cheap "seen" tactics
I know you're too ignorant for my comments
Supporting till the end, till the end for you blasted
Me a shower of boringness,
No personality in our wilderness,
Thought you would give happiness
But other friends makes you happy that's why I'm "sadness"
You considered me nothing but madness
A collision apparently doing badness
My gladness for you is off the charts
Your a cold hearted beauty at its finest
I love you but you hate me
Words so free, hangs bad fruits like trees
Your evil relies stings like a bee
My feelings flee, and learn the right way
When you refused to take the night away,
This heart froze in years and infinity
Ricocheting words lovely in a mirror so ******
No explanation for your rejections repeatedly,
No reactions from your rejections continuously,
We were barely friends in years so badly
Heck, you don't want to be with any
Except for your bad influenced friends knowing
Them as fake ones anyways so you're one of them
But I realized this start has no end
For your cold blooded heart never seriously committed.