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Restless are the eyes that follow searching out a purpose, some nameless claim, so warm, tepid, and full of oceanic wonder; those following two--- those damp spheres of shade. Regrettably, a thought arrives--- I did not request your name, lovely living statue, found of selective voice. Mark my posture as a ship listing on the waves, turn back to port, turn back to safety, return to the familiar these things I know. Pulse cease, disquiet chamber place hold and become stagnant, meaning and reason please return; human folly was born of myself, and remains nameless, such as my captive audience. Such bindings of flesh and form, build me to agony, and remain a prisoner of chemistry this creature, this mystery, this name--- was never offered to me in kind. I suppose--- there are things best kept hidden, not spoken loud as the heart manages its uttering I walk down the hallway, perceiving your gaze at journey's end. Slowly still, my footsteps fall in procession and knowing not at all, when the day concludes such thinking is above my own and I am left to wonder if such a goddess was ever meant to have earthly title.
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Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC
Eyes (I have not seen the like)
Restless are the eyes that follow searching out a purpose, some nameless claim, so warm, tepid, and full of oceanic wonder; those following two--- those damp spheres of shade. Regrettably, a thought arrives--- I did not request your name, lovely living statue, found of selective voice. Mark my posture as a ship listing on the waves, turn back to port, turn back to safety, return to the familiar these things I know. Pulse cease, disquiet chamber place hold and become stagnant, meaning and reason please return; human folly was born of myself, and remains nameless, such as my captive audience. Such bindings of flesh and form, build me to agony, and remain a prisoner of chemistry this creature, this mystery, this name--- was never offered to me in kind. I suppose--- there are things best kept hidden, not spoken loud as the heart manages its uttering I walk down the hallway, perceiving your gaze at journey's end. Slowly still, my footsteps fall in procession and knowing not at all, when the day concludes such thinking is above my own and I am left to wonder if such a goddess was ever meant to have earthly title.
EYES (I HAVE NOT SEE THE LIKE) Copyright © 2020 Andrew Layman All Rights Reserved.
andrew-layman
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Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC
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