Hazy Eyes – a poem

Tired eyes, hurt eyes, hazy lies the day.

This the sick light glow of malaise,

Slow syrup, tearing tissue paper,

Ennui mild beside a good coat’s loss.
A city so well lit should not lie

So dormant, so very dark.

Never dreary in decorous neon,

Yet extra planar light barely peeps in.

Consider this your invitation

To the abyss, a station

Awaits, as does a carriage

With doors of light, wheels of gold.

Will you this offer accept?

Step inside and see

The real world as it flows

Into steadily seeking eyes.


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