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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The perpetual idiocy of the anti-climatic society.

Submitted: November 30, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 30, 2011





The eyes don't lie.

They are tucked away in the attic,

or hidden behind the stairs waiting for the day

you get bored enough to peer around them.

The eyes tell the untold story that's been buried beneath the sea

in a ship no longer there. 

The lonesome, melancholy eyes

 that Linger near the gate of desire--

desired nothing but ears. 

Ears that help extinguish the fire inside the smoldering furnace.

Ears that take form, expand into a ceaseless adventure of discovery.

Ears that lurk around the untouched mysteries, leaving them

neatly folded and entirely perfect.

Ears and eyes. that's all they are.

They do not live. They do not breathe.

Rather, they wait patiently for an outlet, a voice--A mouth.

A mouth that speaks not in lies, but in the absurdity of ignorance.

A mouth that rips the seam of the wool-covered eyes, and snatches the

barrier that so desperately clings to the ears that refused to listen.

A mouth that salvages what little value, the truth has left.

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