Black Body Blues
[More shitty poetry written by me for me solely for my own benefit. WHEW! Yeah, don't make fun, we all have cathartic moments in different ways.]
It's been awhile
Since I've felt myself
Spinning through space
Out of control,
Without council,
And in the dark
With nothing more than
An alleyway
In Memory
Of a man,
Who couldn't open his eyes
If he wanted to see,
At least if he wanted to see cleary,
Unless it was pitch black and empty,
Open and useless.
And yet a perfect reflection of the mind,
His mind and mine.
Opening it to the world,
While keeping it closed
Because only the blind and the recluse
Can see in the dark.
But as it were,
With my mind open and exposed,
Folded and upended,
Adriotly dissected and sectioned off,
Labeled and amusing
On a platter;
I couldn't see anything,
At least nothing new
In the context of the gray and white matter,
The dark matter,
Where nothing matters,
And I can't open my eyes anymore either.
It's been awhile
Since I've felt myself
Spinning through space
Out of control,
Without council,
And in the dark
With nothing more than
An alleyway
In Memory
Of a man,
Who couldn't open his eyes
If he wanted to see,
At least if he wanted to see cleary,
Unless it was pitch black and empty,
Open and useless.
And yet a perfect reflection of the mind,
His mind and mine.
Opening it to the world,
While keeping it closed
Because only the blind and the recluse
Can see in the dark.
But as it were,
With my mind open and exposed,
Folded and upended,
Adriotly dissected and sectioned off,
Labeled and amusing
On a platter;
I couldn't see anything,
At least nothing new
In the context of the gray and white matter,
The dark matter,
Where nothing matters,
And I can't open my eyes anymore either.