my eyes cannot fill that hole you call you spirit
nothing can cloud my eyes but violence
everyone knows my eyes better than me
I cannot bear to look at my own eyes
i feel cut and bruised and ripped apart
iron comes from my eyes, too heavy a weight
to recriminating, forceful but only at mirrors
I hate them, I would pluck them out but for their use
for the beauty they show me only to mock myself
They should be gray and dead like their spirit
people should shudder and run from the glance
that reduces me to angry murmers in the bathroom
I threaten my eyes with no effect
the threat always comes back at me.
How does the world see them, how can they smile?
children start and scare at their gaze only sometimes
do they change for the world, do they love it more than I?
8/17/04