for hours, days, many more to come;
the right eye’s view flinches
into the left, slightly irritated
I wonder why it moves, observe,
monitor it closely, I know
it doesn’t move,
still I suspect the square
to play a trick on me, too proud
to think of my eyes
being tired;
they don’t even look baggy yet,
it’s just my skin,
pale toothpaste,
my natural colour,
everything else a pretentious layer of sun;
if I was still in school,
teachers would send me home
again and I wouldn’t mind
looking sick, for a day or two
to think about life and all,
what to do with my future;
but school is over for good,
nobody sends me home to think
and I keep staring
at this square on my desk
and wonder when
it learned to play tricks
and I keep staring
at this square on my desk
and wonder when
it learned to play tricks
