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


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?





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.


Yes Sir

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.