Tie My Eyes Closed

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Attached at needle point, my eyes are slowly and painfully drawn together.

Once they are sealed, the seamstress ties the remaining string into a bow.

Such a wonderfully little present it is to be blinded.

I no longer see the world, instead I jump from my skin and explore it.

My imagination turns virtue into lilacs, pain into astonishing fireworks.

I use my skin as a parachute, cascading down the never-ending slopes of the street.

I burrow into a restaurant’s booth and eat the air for nourishment.

No longer will I waste my time or lose a moment with a blink.

When one turns out the light, the world really can be vibrant. 

Rainy days turn into small galaxies grazing my skin and pavement.

Long outstretched nights turn into a great foreign film that I can play over and over.

The only present I really ever owned is just behind my eye lids.

The string doesn’t play with me like the outside world play with me.

I am their toy.

In my own eyes, I can reside forever is a fruitful and decadent valley.

Sleep use to be my eight hours of joy; Now, I get to live in imagination every single moment.

Come to repair me when these strings do snap.

I want to enjoy my lifelong nap.

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