12/24/2013


Sitting at the bar.
A man approached me with the line, "you have beautiful eyes."
A simple *** object he made my eyes
a device to leverage me into bed.
How cute.
I said Look into my eyes.
Tell me do you see hues of green and the most beautiful brown bestowed upon my body?
I call them Hazel.
as if they had a name for human pieces of flesh filled with blood.
Filled with the anger, Filled with rage, and Filled with envy which accompany sorrow.
But search further through my furrowed brow and you'll find no regrets even in the deepest depths of my iris and its solitude.
These eyes have seen themselves in the mirror.
Faced with a ***** reflection but don't blame the fragile glass surface with smudges and stains until it shatters.
You can't clean Hazel's ***** soul.
judgmental stares.
***** eyes. **** eyes.
Eyes that have been buried in armpits and stared deep into an *******.
Relentlessly unforgiving in his shallow stares,
Hazel was once so pure.
Eyes with a spark ready to ignite flames of fun now
Burnt to a **** crisp.
But you,
You with your drink in hand,
trying to pick up a trick for a quick.
You fueled the fire.
You burned down the bridge and led Hazel to walk off the cliff.
You killed my eyes.
My beautiful beautiful dead dead eyes.