- Vol. 07
- Chapter 11
Blinking eyes, darkness illuminated by the light on the other side of the lid.
Shapes formed in a recess of the mind, fitting perfectly into a grid.
A hanging bulb, dangling from eyelashes, keeping the inside of my head awake.
Glazing each corner of the room, tinted in colour, but still opaque.
Shadows don’t exist in a round space, unless I intrude to the centre.
Jagged edges protruding from my body, as I embark on an old venture.
No beige, or magnolia, just a constant rotation of glowing hues,
kept wide eyed by the reliance on the fuse.
Not a natural experience, more a man made interference.
Existing inherently, with no false appearance.
The vividness of life is all I see when my eyes are closed,
and all that is needed, is a bulb left exposed.