In the meeting of your eyes

I’ve heard voices that speak to me

Aware me of myself in a barren ground

With everything indelibly photographed

Unwary of myself, a coincidental being


I don’t know what it means

To have pierced your truth in the eyes

Build me into a thorn beneath the sheets

And dress your comfort pouring naked

Right before every eye, melancholic

Scared in your mind, a thing of hurt

Wheels on your lyrical face


Fuss rushing out without sounds

Crying from it’s hiding placements

Yet the actions remain in stagnation

Emotions wild on a restless street

And still these thoughts wrestle