Does it feel like punishment
when you keep your eyes wide
and withering
till the early morning?
though the dawn singes them closed
and adheres them to one another
you still put up a front
with seething, gloating
cornerstones of whatever you expect
to come around,
really, it should always feel like
punishment
when you keep your eyes wide
or when you submit them to shut out
the day like you have always done
how can you be so impossible?
T. DM
In the autumn
When the cold air whips
Its breeze at my face,
I kiss the foreground
Lined with golden leaves,
The season is crisp
And I am content with
Every foggy breath,
The midday waxing moon,
And wood smoke rising from chimneys,
Though I am shivering
Beneath layers of wool
And thought.
T. DM
Can seeing be all but a fortunate situation?
when most that is prosperous is devious,
is malevolent; is seething with crooked hands
directing the herd towards a roundabout
of do this, and that, and this:
a rather unfortunate burden
to view in plain sight,
a scenic of wound up, wired untouchables.
T. DM
