
Watching
My eye
is a lonely creature.
Watching.
Watching as I listen
to the hum of living.
Watching
my inner shadows.
My eye
is dim at its centre.
Blind
thought crashing against walls.
All this ricocheting
in my head.
What becomes of waking
when sleeping
is the better part of me.
Where is rest
while the clock
is full of ticking.
Watching
myself go blind.
That eye
casts no shadow.
That eye
is a lonely creature.
Stream of Consciousness of Saturday (including the word: rest). Image is from The Met NYC, by Utagawa Kuniyoshi. 19c. “Princess Yaegaki”. Public Domain. ยฉMisky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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