An eye wonders for nights on end looking and searching for only a drop of purity in the world. It's all hopeless. The eye, even with it's glistening cornea and iris absorbing every drop of light the sun splashes at it, cannot ever truly see. Things are always missing. What I see in front of me is something I cannot be satisfied with. I don't care for it. It doesn't care for me. And yet, I continue to stare. The winding roots of fascination run deep within me and entangle my heart.
I feel sinful for staring. If only I could kindly request that my eyes avert their gaze from the nothing they love to observe. I am trapped. Everywhere my eyes look I can't look away. Even with my eyelids closed tightly shut, encasing my vision in a shroud of darkness, I am still present in this world.
My eyes dart back and forth uncontrollably from place to place, spectacle to spectacle. Why won't they stop? I still haven't a clue where to place their gaze. My eyes possess a hunger that just cannot be satiated no matter what.
If only these two soft balls of jelly jammed deep into my temples could burst, or perhaps, fall out. Even if I couldn't see them tumble and roll haphazardly on the floor, with their most coating picking up tiny flakes and specs of dust and filth, I'd still feel the electrifying sensation of happiness course through my body like an orgasm.
YOU ARE READING
Schizophrenic ramblings
SonstigesMentally ill man writes about nothing richly coated with meaningless meaning. Thank you for wasting your time reading/ You won't get it back ever.
