Tag Archives: eyes

My Face in the Window

sun-de_an-tNvjzxITVeQ-unsplash

Do not look at me through your open window.
Do not gaze upon my flesh.
How many lions, before you, wish to eat me?
Surely do you jest?
Occupy the chair you coward,
Show to me your true face.
But I only need a mirror
A self portrait in its place.
An empty chair,
And on the stairs,
The man who wasn’t there.
You weren’t there again today,
Maybe someday
That will change.
Perhaps someday you’ll go away.

Mask

This face on the ground
With debris all around,
If it had a mouth
What would it say?
If eyes, what would it see today?
The stealer of identity
A silencer of secrecy.
It becomes anyone and anything,
As swiftly as the past takes wing,
It can be everyone and no one.
And nothing and all blood.
There behind its simple facade,
It laughs, and pretends to be God.

So Tired of Sitting

javier-canales-160671.jpgMore and more he wanted to show,
How he hated the way I’ve grown
And lack of compassion shown,
But this dim light.
Here swallowing fear for so long,
The darkness has dimmed the sight
He once used to view hope.
And in it’s absence, he cried.

She wanted to love me more,
She said she could not before
I shed my despair. She says: “Just try!”
But I see no love in those eyes,
She lies.

Stay down. The conductor waits,
To preform another movement.
I’ll try to guess what that is.
So tired of sitting.
So tired of sleeping awake.

Low Lights

Low lights speak your name.
The red and orange; no moonlight to dull them.
You wander nighttime streets through fog to see,
Or to not see. Why else by night?
A cradle of second sunrise,
If you make it you’ll be mine.
We shall see in time,
If these red lights stain your eyes.

Enter: the Censor


Listen to yourself breathe.
Look outward with glossy stare.
Become the hunted.
Become what you seek.
Then never look into the mirror.

Press eyes into the sieve.
What’s left can only see through filter.
You sought the censor.
You never thought the censor was you.
Now never again look into the mirror.

Rain?drops

Raindrops.
Falling water.
Raindrops still if from eyes?
Being told this is not allowed,
Raindrops.

Burning Trains


Often, sinking into foam,
On our transport all alone,
With nothing but the neon glow
Of the broken signs to show
What path lies before, behind.
In the distance, obseverent eyes
Not at all the lonely spies,
We’ve long taught ourselves to despise.
Beside this wreakage, unmoving I,
There in the cold the same as me,
A myriad of eyes I plainly see.
At the end of the tunnel, this is the light:
Just another broken train burning bright.