spontaneous poetry - 7.31.13

[rayvenfaerie]

All the eyes about, made of glass
stare longingly from their mounts
and their postures remain unaltered
not faltered
with a bizarre expression
which once was
of curiosity.
To be like them
a timeless beauty,
to never die,
to never hurt again,
what I wouldn't give.
You can make perfection
if you kill all the tiny imperfections
the price for this
is only one's soul.
From the wheels of a car,
from the diseases that did them in,
from the kitchen of a boa constrictor,
comes a structure -
that will live forever.
Glass eyes stare about the room
in a fixed state
which can outlast love
and life itself.