Sometimes** I want to cut my eyelashes
Off when I think of all the
Stupid things I have done.
I’d end them at the root (
The follicle
)
Of their tormenting process
And leave only the small stalk of
Good that my intentions stemmed from
In the very beginning
( Before they feathered out into
Devastatingly long things, meandering
Wisps )))
That interlock with others and
Make the artist shiver when
He tries to draw them (One
By
One)
Sometimes I want to
cut (
Down to the root of things )
To make sure that everything
Started nobly
And that all of the suffering is for a cause.
Because my dark eyelashes have blond
Tips that are obscured in the sunlight
( And cloaked by the night ))
And I’m not sure if they actually ever end
Because they rub against one another (((like
Everything always leaves abrasions on the
Edges of everything else)))
And I never even notice the ripples in the
Air molecules when I blink,
Involuntarily and inevitably-
A dark flash withers-
Unnoticed-