I can sleep now
It’s late, or early somewhere and I’ve worn enough sets of eyes for the day
Uncertain eyes
Thankless eyes
Never felt quite right, though
So I got tired eyes

Now all that’s left
Remember whose I am
Then what green-gold glint
Comes fluttering back
Roaring, of course, but of your blinded eyes
Blinding mine
Tired still

Lost Sheep

How long this long walking?

Threshold in illusion’s sight,

Always the cause to stop,

Back track,


Endless days unfed.

Endless night sleeping,

But in a foreign, unholy land.

No pasture after all, perhaps?