Secure.

These two eyes are nothing,
coated with a nebulous slime,
attached to a mind that they roughly belong to.

The glass is dingy,
smothered with smoke.
All I see are those two big holes,
simply looking at their impression, their reflection,
as if it is merely a stranger.

The insecurity begins to chew at my stomach.
It swallows deliberately, let’s me feel my immunity perish.
Things, people, they’re all blurry now.
All I can see is the purple smoke,
sliding up into my nostrils,
manipulating my brain,
trying to tease me with health.

I squeeze the shallow sockets tightly,
I let the smoke wrap around me,
let the insecurity devour me,
let the hands of love itself freeze my nerves.


I splatter what’s left all over the mirror,
or maybe just the murky glass.
I pull out everything I never knew,
and I let the rest of me fall
to
the
floor.


I understand that this isn't exactly a masterpiece, but I wanted to post something a little different. My other stuff is all somewhat similar.

Hey becca,

I must admit to having some trouble deciding what exactly this poem is about. In great part it's because of the imagery that is kind of repetitive and obscure. What's that "purple smoke"? The way I read it, it could be a multitude of things (love, the insecurity, literal smoke whut), which make more or less sense depending on the interpretation. Having some freedom is good, but there's also too much sometimes, IMO.

Vagueness aside: your wording is iffy at times. From the first stanza on:

These two eyes are nothing,
coated with a nebulous slime,
attached to a mind that they roughly belong to.

How can "nothing" be coated with something? "Nebulous" is not a word that goes with "slimy" well: the contrast is jarring and a tad clumsy. And "roughly belong to" is an awkward turn of phrase. The next stanza is kind of iffy in places as well, but okay, until I get to "trying to tease me with health." It comes out of nowhere, and while I could see it making sense in another context, here it's just so sudden and out-of-place that it... doesn't.

I splatter what’s left all over the mirror,
or maybe just the murky glass.

What does the imprecision bring here? Nothing, as far as I can tell. Just tell us how it is instead of turning around the point.

Hi Becca!

Aha! A looking-into-mirror-and-confronting-yourself poem!

I would probably start with stanza two, actually... the first stanza isn't really important overall to the poem, so I think it's safe to get rid of it! Plus, it's clear that you are looking in a mirror from stanza two, which is good.

A question!

let the insecurity devour me,
let the hands of love itself freeze my nerves.

This is an interesting idea! I never thought the hands of love could freeze nerves! What do you mean by this? I think this image is worthy of more description, just because it's a bit strange and very interesting!

Also?

to
the
floor.

I think you can just put this on one line with a better effect.