(no subject)

[taechay]

my eyes can't reach
the eyes themselves
anxious to get still
too anxious
looking around
for something to bite
like teeth they are

my soul, a shattering rock
shattering by itself
an eternal tremor
a thought of peace
a thought of life
an overcome fear of death
on a face that won't budge

whispers of darkness
either beautiful suffering
or a clever joy
demonized
posessed
made ready for sanity

I
I
I
seem to exist