Sometimes I Forget Myself

There’s a mirror in the room.
Twice a day at it I zoom.
In the morning when I rise, and when I tell the day goodbye;
Reversing what is me, myself and I.

Sometimes I forget myself.

A miniaturised mirror in my pocket;
Beckons every minute.
Mirror mirror. I ask it. Who is fairest?
With no syllables and only mere awareness.

Sometimes I forget myself.

I create a luminous picture,
Perfected with sound conjecture.
Within which lurks ghosts reflecting upon me,
Wanting to break free.

Sometimes I forget myself.

Invisible, brushless, kaleidoscopes, linger in the mind of mine.
Different from the portrait of posts, art suspended in time.
With likes and commendations 🙂
Shock and condemnation 😦

Sometimes I forget myself.

Nothing I remembered;
Got lost in a train dismembered,
As memories popped in the absence
Of compiling, compelling evidence.

Sometimes I forget myself.

Left the contacts at home,
Then suffered from some strange syndrome.
Knew not where were friends and co.
So I went to and fro.

Sometimes I forget myself.

Is this knowing it, or is this knowing they?
Is this knowing just a maze from which I never truly stray?