An Invisible Man

I have created a world
composed of blind people.

Winter has not come in my favor.
a fine way of thinking turns into
a composition made of violence.

Clothed
I stand before an audience
who trespass 
the violent avenues of the mind, mine:
an ugly person trapped inside an ugly disguise.

They unravel me like the living dead
a pharoh of Egypt
violated
and a lie
blossoming from the roof of my mouth
looks like dead skin rotting there,

but even this pile of flesh is nothing
to the grotesque absence of limbs
the gaping hole where a mouth should be.

Captivated,
they reach out to touch me
the moment they recoil, I disconnect.

I have practiced selfhood all my life
but isolation is a foreign concept

this feeling
of having been erased,
encased in the body of a temporary host
living like a ghost.