I wouldn’t sleep I’ll just play it on repeat
Where are the eyes
I can’t find them
Where do they move, to-fro I can’t be them
edges of my seeing sockets, beyond the rims of my lenses
Into the vibrating darkness,
the beating of trees silent
silted in the bridge
possible dangers littered, meshed into being
which one do I follow?
Where is the danger, I can feel its hovering touch
where does the hum come? , where does it feast? , what synthetic shell incubates its beasts?
At rivers a lake,
stuck in the socket monitored by hulked dough people
movement strikes the breath your holding
be unseen by what I can’t see, I’m out of services
where do the lines meet?
what am I projecting into the edges of darkness,
Am I the canvas or the paint?