If my eyes are windows,
i'd prefer them latched shut,
not with sleep, or drunkenness,
but with the hopes of,
and i'm not being cynical,
that when i open them,
i won't be surrounded by the smog,
the **** storm, the 21st century
excuse for a culture,
provided to you by use of TMZ,
MTV, BET, any acronym,
but behind those eyes,
storm windowed, bunkered,
rests a mind that knows only doors,
to open and close as it sees fit,
allowing whatever it pleases to pass,
but not without judgement,
unlike those unruly eyes,
allowing light to shine through,
and darkness to permeate.
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 3:54 PM UTC
If my eyes are windows,
i'd prefer them latched shut,
not with sleep, or drunkenness,
but with the hopes of,
and i'm not being cynical,
that when i open them,
i won't be surrounded by the smog,
the **** storm, the 21st century
excuse for a culture,
provided to you by use of TMZ,
MTV, BET, any acronym,
but behind those eyes,
storm windowed, bunkered,
rests a mind that knows only doors,
to open and close as it sees fit,
allowing whatever it pleases to pass,
but not without judgement,
unlike those unruly eyes,
allowing light to shine through,
and darkness to permeate.
Pains.
Request permission to use this poem