"Your eyes must be closed!"
Tears well.
Tears stream.
"Won't you listen?"
I cannot courtesy her with a reply.
My eyes are by ghost lids closed.
My ghost's hands cover my ears.
I hear no evil.
I see no evil.
But if I cut my veins and empty them
would that make me feel fixed?
Would the thrill of it
our connection
an end to my obsession
would it heal?
But it's gone.
She is my ghost.
Unwillingly and unwittingly
she sheilds my eyes from her.
covers my ears.
I will see no evil.
I will be no evil.
YOU ARE READING
Unrelated... A series of weird and wonderful poems
PoetryA collection of the unusual and the very usual poetry, A collection, a series, A set which grows over time © P.H.Dyer, 2011-2012 All rights reserved Note: I have had issues with people using my work without authorisation, and so I've had to put thi...
