my eyes speak.
wrote this, or rather typed this into my phone when i was in borders leafing through pictures of the past; dead and long gone.
my eyes speak
the way i see;
the mist and the ages are in my throat
And my chest.
my chest swells like a black cherry.
it is sweet
and dripping with wasted veins.
the rest have disappeared and left,
cradling their pensive tanks.
they shot me, father.
the war only begun
when i watch,
watched.
the battlefields are dried with
your ink and the glory of your descents.
black and white kamikazes,
you drew the world
with silver iodide
and magnetized.
those fleeting birds,
clipped their wings
reclaimed them in Spain,
in death,
in the pies they ate.
the only cave they carved
was grand and sombre.
revive, frida.
kings and queens once,
my regal mates,
my missing merfolk.
the ocean culls with
collective voices
and eyes.
and eyes,
and eyes;
you diamonds set in pearl blue.
my cravings my deep set admirations.
look back.
stare with a vengeance.
i dived and danced;
when i do: look.
your attention is
my asylum.
chuckle back with your crass.
when you do : i
would float away in
this semi torrential tender
thumping gaiety.
my eyes speak
the way i see;
the mist and the ages are in my throat
And my chest.
my chest swells like a black cherry.
it is sweet
and dripping with wasted veins.
the rest have disappeared and left,
cradling their pensive tanks.
they shot me, father.
the war only begun
when i watch,
watched.
the battlefields are dried with
your ink and the glory of your descents.
black and white kamikazes,
you drew the world
with silver iodide
and magnetized.
those fleeting birds,
clipped their wings
reclaimed them in Spain,
in death,
in the pies they ate.
the only cave they carved
was grand and sombre.
revive, frida.
kings and queens once,
my regal mates,
my missing merfolk.
the ocean culls with
collective voices
and eyes.
and eyes,
and eyes;
you diamonds set in pearl blue.
my cravings my deep set admirations.
look back.
stare with a vengeance.
i dived and danced;
when i do: look.
your attention is
my asylum.
chuckle back with your crass.
when you do : i
would float away in
this semi torrential tender
thumping gaiety.
