Poetry

Eyes and Coasters Go Unused

On my table is a coaster
When it works
It makes the transporter sound
I love Star Trek
I want it to transport me somewhere
The batteries are dead

Beside it is my glass of whiskey
With a fresh squeezed lime
I should put it on the coaster
Maybe I’m a rebel
Maybe I don’t care

Behind those
Are the books I’ve started
Can’t finish
The bookworm who can’t read
Maybe science ruined me
Or fifty shades of bullshit
Who am I now
When I can’t take in the words?

I suppose
I’m now one who spews them
Poetry and fiction
That bring you to your knees
To orgasm

You lust and love
Cry and sympathize
With stories that are all to real

Or are they?

Will you ever know what things I carry?
Will I ever let you?

I’ve an eye patch on my right eye
The bad one
The ruined one
I see all that is from my good eye

I see ash falling from a black sky

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