MagazineNovember

Hollow Eyes

The sightless thick is bound.
The downed folk mound around.
Here we are, as we are,
With all our hollow eyes.

The undulations blow,
With every waking hour.
Sorrow? Thought?
Then? ‘Tis fraught.
Now? Is nil –
With all our hollow eyes.

Did I feel the shrift?
Did I see a bliss gift,
For the waking soul?
Hardly, I say.
Hardly, at all?
Yes, I scarcely did,
With both my hollow eyes.

Clinking, clacking,
Lacking, yacking,
Cracks? That’s all I hear,
For nothing passes through
These hollow eyes
Anymore.

And so we gasp
As wind does rush
To brush and shush the underbrush.
For we know nothing but the rush
That seeks to crush the blush.
It’s this I know – for I am not lush
As the winds rolls ‘round to hush
And calm my hollow eyes.
And there’s nothing I can do,
When sight is what I need to see
The tracks of rushing wind.

I cry with no tears,
And sing with no voice.
I see with no sight
And touch with no feel,
For this is my fate –
This is all our of our fates.
Our hollow eyes will suffocate
From this old putrid spate!
With others just like you,
Who trip over air like I,
‘Tis only you,
And only I
With sight of hollow eyes.

For the sightless thick is bound.
The downed folk mound around.
Here we are, as we are,
With all our hollow eyes.

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