My eyes shed

The skin of the last day spent

They fall on the bed

Like petals from a rose

And I see their clear, wrinkly pale whiteness

Their blueness from the cornea beseeches me

And these new ones, how they prickle like thorns!

How they feel like my body will slip away

Visions come to me, so quick on their little blurry feet

I cannot see the apparitions

Of the people long gone past

My brain fries

On the pan that my head makes

Cooking for the early morning brunch

(its definition of brunch is very different compared to us who have sense)

The hours slip on by

2, 3, 4, 5

I can only count until the moment I die

The deep sea mariner

Wants to swim in the ocean blue sky

Of the early morning that rises

While I lie awake

Wondering when my skin will grow feathers

And I will fly from my coop, piled with white black birdshit

And I will be away, to the land where my eyes

Can't pick up any of the electrical shocks

It gets day after day

2, 3, 4, 5

And then for 2 I am safe

Then the cycle repeats

Then my eyes shed, yet again