Eyes

Published on Sun, 25^th May 2025 at 21:52

by William Troup

No eye, for this eye; as for me, you are blind; as unraveled as the sheets that await before my sleep. No rivulets seep from my skin, no fallacies reign in the deep; for time is a war of attrition, nothing more than a tradition; and what of me, you ask? my glass is an ocean away ...