No depth of soul is mirrored there.
Your eyes bare one short-sighted aim,
they glitter purpose and present
me as an enemy to blame.
I watch you open lips and throat
revealing lies you’ve swallowed whole
and half-truths part-digested. Hate
reprogrammes any self-control.
And then your clone in physical
expression, joins you, glaring through
my T.V. screen as focus shifts,
then cuts back to a news desk pew.