my eyes are on fire
(like a band that i heard once, so
mystical and pretentious.)
with every blink I burn.
soft glass eyes move over
a stream of time
a stream of consciousness
a stream of sodium and potassium
a pathway to a fire
i thought had died.
Where do I stand when
the passing of time has not yet
But has instead countered the seduction
of “easy” with
what is worthwhile?”
It would appear I’ve stumbled through a looking glass,
The injustice between “fulfilling” and “feels good” puts fools in vogue.