My two eyes are windows to a wasteland. All is waiting until
waiting. My dirty legs fill the waste bins & leg holders of
mobile chairs. I even long for the glares. The stares. Something
to know at least they see me. My eyes are gone, pulled from my
head by the savage instincts of man with power. He stripped
me & gave me just enough to keep me alive. Worse than a
beating heart; a working brain. A power house that burns & turns
& breaks to pieces & puts itself back together again & falls apart
again, like crackers tumble from a parched & toothless mouth. A
mouth that says "There's no more left" & laughs your soot into the
nightness of death. Tonight should be the end of me, but sure as
suffering is suffering my heart will beat through the night &
another blind morning will I wake.
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