The unholy gleam takes it’s root
Splinting and shivering in every pupil.
Pupil, pupil- dilate as such!
Show me movement in your harsh breeding;
The curses fall from your lips and spatter onto my face.
They are like pennies, new and heavy on my skin.
The skin! Around my eyes it is purpled, like dark fruit,
And tissue-thin; it often hurts me.
Poor weakness! Hard eyeballs cup themselves in my sockets
And weigh me down like a hole in a boat.
I am too meek for this heftiness.
My soul claws and sobs to me like a sleepless baby
And there isn’t anything left.
The sweet sunbeams, the dull peonies
Are as empty as my heart, and they do not suffice.
I’ll die and trump them in heaven.