A pulse before vision, Pressure behind the skull. The sound of the skin Learning to breathe. Green light behind the forehead hums, Cracks in the mirror form constellations. Every fracture opens wider, Every tremor shapes a face. The lidless thing inside me watches— Patient, pure, and cruel. The fracture is the opening, The agony, the light. A scream uncoiling backwards, Seeing with what it destroys. It blinked once — and I never slept again. The wound became the witness. It blinked once — and I never slept again. The pupil swallowed heaven. I saw the gears turning under the sky. I saw thought peel away from flesh. There is no up, no down — only the pressure Of becoming what’s looking back. It blinked once — and I never slept again. The wound became the witness. It blinked once — and I never slept again. The pupil swallowed heaven. Blood remembers what the mind forgot, Sight through suffering, clarity through rot. I begged for blindness — the eye refused. I begged for peace — the light consumed. It blinked once — and I never slept again. The wound became the witness. It blinked once — and I never slept again. The pupil swallowed heaven. (I see you… I see me…) The eye closes. The vision remains.
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