Perspectives Of Glass

November 4, 2008
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Eyes, why do you have
to tell all my secrets?
I hate when you let them
dispel from your invisible
tongue. Why do you let
those tears ebb, slip, fall
and immerse into pores?
It’s not rejuvenating. Do
you get irritated from
eye makeup? Well,
maybe if you weren’t
such a dull color you
wouldn’t need to be
masked with it.
Eyes, perhaps one day
you will deteriorate
and become circles of
blackening night of a
corpse. I wish you, eyes,
were gorgeous and had
the effect of a sun drowning
into iridescent, polychromatic
puddles. Instead, you’re bland
tinted windows smudged with
brown crayons. You’re dull
like the bruised, rotten apple
skins. Not capable to be used
in hypnosis. You’re only
useful for vision that withers
away anyways. Be fresh, bright
eyes and I’ll be on terms with you.
Do you even care how much
thought I put into you?
I want your irises to glint like
winter’s 12:15 am sky with
twinkling spiders crawling
along like leaping stars on
moonlight. Maybe you need
sunlight for nourishment.
Moonlight never helps.
Be cute like lace on gussied up
baby dolls. Take a trip
to outer space and transform
into something beautiful
like a nebula. Eyes, are you the
lock to hidden passageways?
Are you the cause of curiosity?
I don’t think you are.
Eyes, to be honest, you’re not
as effective as people makes
eyes to be.
You’re contradictory.
Are you deceiving or honest?
Do you tell the truth or do you hide
something behind that layer?
Eyes wide open,
eyes wide shut.
Either way, you’re always dormant.
Wake up.
Be alive.
Open up and realize
that behind its complaints,
life is actually beautiful.

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