Blind men don't even know
the blessing that they own.
I cannot describe the agony
that enters my brain
through my wandering eyes.
Tormented by the permutations
that assail me,
from a million different angles.
Perfect darkness
is the only thing that soothes me.
But, even in the depths of night
I cannot blind the eyes
in the chasm of my mind.
The neverending eight millimeter reel
of things I'll never touch
skin I'll never feel.
Why must I have eyes?
***** out the stars,
so maybe I can finally hide
from everything I cannot have.

Compassion is the cruelest curse
a painful defect of my birth.
Day after day it just gets worse,
it floods me like a dam that's burst.
An endless dirge, a tragic verse,
a starving babe without a nurse.
Like new seeds sown on salted earth.

Yes, it is a slave I wish to be,
a slave to Love all encompassing,
a slave to Justice for All.
I offer up my wrist
to the Righteous manacle,
my ankle to the Holy shackle.
So that I may know neverending,
my dignity and freedom will be forever preserved, by the inviolable compact
of loving parent, and obedient child.

A Mushroom
Is a Flower
that got tired of waiting
for a gypsy sun
who had found other pastures
to spend his time shining on.

Of all the things I've never touched
I'm saddest that I cannot touch your mind.
Gradually it will **** me.