Sometimes when I close my eyes
I see slight ripples.
Sometimes grain.
I sometimes wonder how most people see the world.
Bright colors.
If everything is as clear as it appears.
I assume it's normal. To wonder if things are there or not.
The static that appears before my eyes.
A desire held within.
The static compensating the reality of how things are.
A visual interpretation of what I miss most.
Nothing ever solid.
A face appearing between the grain.
I can never read her expression.
Dissipating seconds after I open my eyes.
Mounds & mounds of snow.
Sometimes I wonder.
If you ever see the same snow that I see