deepundergroundpoetry.com
91
These eyes seem old
I've seen more in this generation
than all those dead and cold
could have ever foretold
what more do I need to be
tired hinges
rusty whinges
as my lashes flutter
and my lids close
bloodshot and bold
too tired to doze
I can't keep them closed
or the whole world
I spun up
comes crashing
broken saucers flying
shattered tea cups
burnt-out spheres
dried up tiers of tears
ducks plucking feathers
from the tailspin
of my hidden tailfin
swimming in the dark
is always fun
to chase a spark
gooey hot fire
flipping the switches
of my retina
pupil a twitching tire
a hungry whore
soaking up more and more
lighting the torch of a trillion pores
a photonic score
hitting my two open sores
I've seen so much
yet always more in store
I've seen more in this generation
than all those dead and cold
could have ever foretold
what more do I need to be
tired hinges
rusty whinges
as my lashes flutter
and my lids close
bloodshot and bold
too tired to doze
I can't keep them closed
or the whole world
I spun up
comes crashing
broken saucers flying
shattered tea cups
burnt-out spheres
dried up tiers of tears
ducks plucking feathers
from the tailspin
of my hidden tailfin
swimming in the dark
is always fun
to chase a spark
gooey hot fire
flipping the switches
of my retina
pupil a twitching tire
a hungry whore
soaking up more and more
lighting the torch of a trillion pores
a photonic score
hitting my two open sores
I've seen so much
yet always more in store
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