A single moment was enough to create this:
a retinal distraction when a scatter of light
hits and forms an image.
Perfection is the harshest term.
The shade of your eyes is a curse, it's a curse.
Don't look at me.
Don't look at me, it hurts.
The neurons have fired:
a torrential surge through the optic nerve…
I can't find the words.
The warmth of a body in an empty bed…
When only the scent is left, only dissent is left.
It's too late for rational sense, the neurons have fired.
A single moment was enough to create this:
a retinal distraction when a scatter of light
hits and forms an image.
Perfection is the harshest term.
The shade of your eyes is a curse, it's a curse.
Don't look at me.
Don't look at me,
it hurts.
